Three Wishes
by Axis II
Summary: JJ's behavior is beginning to raise suspicions. Meanwhile, Emily discovers a serial killer in Europe with an almost fool proof cover.
1. Secrets

**Disclaimer:  
**Criminal Minds is the property of The Mark Gordon Company in association with CBS and ABC (cause everyone wants a piece of it!)

**Three Wishes**

(or lucky blackbird)

Chapter One

"The best way of keeping a secret is to pretend there isn't one."  
― Margaret Atwood,

Jennifer Jareau marched through the truncated halls of BAU to that den of technological iniquity affectionately called 'the lair.' She was still trying to calculate the wording of her reports and the facts that were necessary versus the missing ones. Only that distraction could explain why she didn't hear the voices until she was right on top of the open doorway.

"I'm not having this conversation, Reid!" Garcia sounded irritated but tender, as she always was when it came to matters involving their savant.

"Garcia, something is wrong. You can't tell me you haven't noticed. I've noticed and I'm the most socially oblivious and inept member of the team! She's reticent, withdrawn, detached and uncommunicative." Spencer, on the other hand, was nearly at fever pitch. He was speaking with a speed and passion of a machine gun, sounding as though his thoughts were about to make his head explode.

"Aren't some of those synonyms?" Penelope "Omniscient Goddess of All Unknowable" was trying to break through Reid's obsessive rant.

"They're adjectives with close parallel definitions but fundamentally dissimilar roots and meanings!" Reid sounded close to either a heart attack or tears. His high speed brain didn't deal well with any kind of obstacle on the tracks. Before Garcia's humor or ration could break the poor boy's brain JJ crossed the threshold.

"Pen, I need a little more information before I can finish this report on the Seattle case. Can you pull phone records to confirm if Justin Leu and and Nathan Chow had any contact after he left his class? Something had to have kept that boy's memory and paper fresh in the teacher's mind." JJ did an instant sweep of the room, hating herself momentarily for using profiling skills on her friends but ultimately unable to resist. The phone vibrating in her pocket distracted her focus and she pulled it out, thumbing a rejection of the call before turning her attention back to the oddly dumbfounded occupants.

"Right, phone records. I can do that in three blinks and a lick of ice cream. Should I just bring them to you?" Garcia jerked her attention back to her comfortingly familiar computer screens. Reid was still looking at JJ, his eyes doing a dance between her face and the phone in her pocket with the clear expression of a child trying to solve a puzzle. She'd seen Henry display the exact same face when trying to work out which parent to beg for candy. The phone in her pocket vibrated again, the shorter staccato of a text message and she ignored it.

"Yes, please." JJ nodded and turned to leave.

"Are you ok?" Reid blurted out then suddenly realized his error, "That's a stupid question. It forces you to the inevitable answer that everything is fine when obviously it isn't. I think what I meant was," Spencer tended to look at the floor when he was rambling but he suddenly took a deep breath and met her eyes, "I can tell something is wrong. I just want you to know that whatever it is, you can tell us."

JJ was momentarily speechless. The only sound in the small room of digital lights was Garcia's motion sensing Darth Vader doll. And JJ's phone. Vibrating. Again.

"I'm fine, Spence. I'm sorry if I made you think otherwise, I've just been having an off day." She assured with one of her patented JJ smiles – the ones that she used to use in front of cameras to reassure reporters and public alike that the situation was completely under control and nothing bad was going to happen. Ever. It was a smile people wanted to believe. It didn't fool profilers for a minute.

IF JJ had stuck around outside the lair she would've hear d a further illuminating conversation.

_"__She didn't answer her phone. Did you see that? She ignored it at least three times!"_

_"__It's called efficiency, Reid. She has plenty of other demands on her time and I'm sure if it was an emergency –," Garcia was trying to argue. _

_"__That's just it, Garcia! JJ may not be communications liaison anymore but she still knows that any call could be an imminent crisis. For her to be ignoring calls means she knows who they're from and what they're about. And THEN she's deciding not to respond! She's avoiding something!" Reid was frustrated but still slightly pleased to have found a way to make his point. Few things were quite as satisfying as transferring anxiety to another person. The only thing better was transplanting ear worms. 'It's a small world after all. It's a small world-'_

_"__Fine! Give it a rest! I'll find out what's going on just so you can go back to obsessing about British based science fiction!"_

Penelope was not one to think the worst of people. In fact, if optimism had a pathological name it would be something like Garica-itis. An insurmountable faith in the goodness of the world (if not human nature) left her completely inured to cynicism, skepticism, pessimism and reality. Yet, despite her bubble of happily spangled stockings and effervescent makeup she felt a tremor of dread as she knocked on JJ's door.

Something was wrong.

Even the carefully accented professional cheer in JJ's voice sounded forced. She smiled as Penelope walked in but the sparkle never reached her eyes. _Damn Reid! I never would've started looking if he hadn't made me!_ JJ was one of the best at concealing her inner turmoil, mainly because no one was watching for it. They all took it for granted that JJ was emotionally healthy (unlike Elle had been) and self-aware (unlike Reid) as well as humble enough to seek help if she needed it (unlike pretty much any of the others). Everyone trusted that if something was wrong JJ was honest enough to speak up. Right now, however, what Garcia saw in her face was a pain too secret to share even with her most beloved friends.

"The phone logs on Leu and Chow. It looks like they must've had regular conversations, almost weekly. Maybe Nathan was continuing to refine his manifesto?" Garcia set the papers on the desk and slid them forward. She saw JJ's phone light up. She also saw that JJ didn't even glance at the screen, just pushed the phone a little further to one side.

"Possibly. It might've just been Chow seeking help from his mentor to get him through university the same way he did high school. The kid was clearly struggling." JJ nodded as she skimmed the logs. It was several seconds before she realized Penelope was still standing in front of her desk, fingers nervously toying with her bracelets. The blonde agent sighed and leaned back, fixing her friend with a patient but questioning gaze.

"JJ, it isn't an off day. You know Reid wouldn't have even picked up on it that fast. You've been . . .different for days. I don't know how long but I think it's been weeks! I didn't notice it enough to think about it and we've been so busy and I thought maybe we were all just trying to find a new rhythm with Kate and now I'm so sorry I didn't see it before!" Garcia word-vomited as rapidly as possible, trying to get all her emotions into a single breath before JJ could interrupt or shut her out.

"Pen! Breathe!" JJ's smile was a bit more genuine now. The love she had for the quirky analyst was absolute and sincere. Very little in the world could make her smile like Penelope Garcia could. She was the most honest soul she'd ever come across.

"Sorry. Right. Just tell me, is everything ok? Are you ok?" Penelope sat across from her, leaning forward urgently. JJ's eyes flickered away from the intensity of the scrutiny. Garcia had spent enough years with the BAU to know that never meant anything good. Then, rather than meeting Penelope's gaze the cornflower blue color drifted to stare out the office window. When she finally spoke her voice sounded as far away as her mind obviously was.

"I'm -," JJ stopped herself, "I _will be_ fine. I'm just dealing with something and I need to process."

The phone vibrated again but didn't even attract Jareau's attention. Penelope waited as politely as possible, wondering if more information would come. It allowed her to study her friend.

JJ had changed a lot over the years. The fairly innocent, small-town girl who held the hands of police, reporters and families and projected the calm, optimistic face the BAU needed had gradually shifted to a stronger version of herself; tighter with her emotional control, stronger in confrontations, firmer in resolve – by the time the Pentagon had taken her she was truly a force to be reckoned with. Then she had come back from the Pentagon – _the Middle East, really _– and she had hardened. There was no other word for it. There was a sense around the edges of her personality that some innocence had been lost. She'd been scarred, more than just physically and the only time the wounds completely vanished from her eyes was when she looked at and held her son.

The phone vibrating, yet again, broke both women from their individual contemplations. JJ subtly ground herself back in reality, glancing at the phone with a hint of irritation before turning to Garcia.

"Really, Pen. There's nothing to worry about." She assured once again.

"Yeah? Because you just spent 4 minutes staring into space and that is not the JJ I know. What were you thinking? What were you seeing?" Garcia got up to see where JJ's gaze would've been through her window. It wasn't actually just space, she had a full view of the bullpen.

"Is it the team? Is something wrong? Do you not like Kate?" she pressed, certain there were clues and tells that she was missing and damn! she wished she had profiler training at times like this.

"No, don't be ridiculous. The team is great and Kate is a perfect fit. I don't think anyone has ever slid into the dynamic so easily or been so comfortable with the way we role. She's going to do great." JJ immediately assured.

"Has something come up with Cruz or the Pentagon? Did Hastings have partners?" Penelope actually felt herself choke with panic at the very thought. Everyone on the team had been in mortal peril at some point (including herself) but no one had as much to lose as JJ.

"No. The task force is paying close attention and staying in touch with me. No threats have been found." Now she was starting to sound a bit amused.

"Then are things ok with your family? Is Will ok? Is Henry?" Penelope couldn't quite keep the note of hysteria out of her voice when she thought of anything happening to her godson.

"They're all fine. Henry is better than that, he's wonderful. He is and always will be my spot of perfection in this whole world." The truth of the words glittered in her eyes.

The phone vibrated again and this time JJ actually looked pissed. The furrow in her brow told of how much she wanted to crush it beneath her boot heel or put a bullet in the sim card at point blank range. Was she angry at the caller, the distraction or the situation she was in at this moment that was demanding so much concentration? Had one of the questions gotten too close?

"What about –," Penelope was going to ask more specifically about Will. JJ had completely glossed over that part of the question.

"I'm sorry, Pen. We're going to have to continue this later. I need to make a call." JJ held up her phone and marched out of the office. She could've simply asked Penelope to leave and use the privacy of her own space. But she obviously needed to be away from the office, away from Garcia and the questions. She was fleeing. Penelope sat staring after her, completely confounded. Why couldn't people be as simple as code?

The sound of vibration attracted her attention. The phone that had been receiving calls and messages was still there, dancing angrily across the desktop. Didn't JJ take her phone?

There was a split second of war in Penelope's head as she weighed invading the privacy of her best friend against the need to understand if she was in danger. In the FBI, let alone the BAU, danger came from many sources; external and internal. Right now JJ was definitely fighting something.

Penelope snapped up the phone the next time it vibrated. It was a text message. The ID on the sender just read 'Lucky.'

_I know you're in pain. Call me when you're ready to let me help. _

Whatever qualms Garcia might have had about JJ's rights to privacy vanished. The answers were in here somewhere.

* * *

_Feedback is welcome and appreciated!_


	2. Longing

**Chapter Two**

**Longing**

"Absence is to love what wind is to fire; it extinguishes the small, it inflames the great."  
― Roger de Bussy-Rabutin

Penelope's immediate impulse on seeing the text message was to scroll through the whole conversation but she stopped herself. She needed more information first. Whose phone was this? What was it used for? She would need some quality time alone with the little mystery device so she slipped it into her pocket and power walked as nonchalantly as possible back to the privacy of her isolated domain.

A perusal of the contacts, settings and dashboard yielded quite a bit of information but barely any answers. The owner of the phone wasn't identified anywhere. There were no pictures saved, no hints of personality stored in the memory. There were no apps other than a third-party video conference program. The ONLY contact in the entire phone was Lucky. And it was a lot of contact. The phone logs showed phone calls almost daily, usually at one of two times: 7:30 am or 12:30 pm. Then there were random smatterings of evening calls but those were all over the board._ Think like a profiler, Garcia. What does this mean? The owner and Lucky both have fairly predictable schedules during the day but evenings are either chaos or totally free._

The phone log went back as far as a month and then nothing. Scrolling the text messages, Penelope found the same pattern. One month of use. What were the odds that just a month ago these two suddenly needed to be in daily contact? _Where's Spencer when I need him?_ She didn't actually need him though because Garcia already knew what she was holding. It was a burner phone. It was meant for one thing, used by and for one person; and it was probably one of many.

_Ok, working from the assumption that this** IS** JJ's phone, time to see why she needs it._ Garcia wasn't sure if the pressure in her ribs was a pang of guilt over what she was about to do, or anxiety of what she would find. Thumbing back to the top of the messages she began reading the conversation that started a month ago and seemed to start and stop and wind through all their days.

* * *

**Miss me?**

_About time! I was worried you'd forgotten me. - Lucky_

**Oh? Getting clingy all of a sudden? Maybe I should make you wait more often.**

_Careful, if you toy with me I may decide to move on. Stick to someone new who doesn't neglect me. -Lucky_

**You'd never find better. Besides, I thought absence was supposed to make the heart grow fonder?**

_I think we're beyond that particular stage. Besides, we both know you couldn't love me more. - Lucky_

_And you're right of course. You are the best. - Lucky_

**Damn straight.**

* * *

Garcia mulled over the words. The texts certainly sounded like JJ. They sounded like the confident, easy going JJ that could both dance with the girls and throw darts with the boys. She was being coy and playful, a side she hadn't easily displayed in a long time.

* * *

**You're impossible.**

_Good morning. Running late, are you? -Lucky_

**Traffic is a bitch, it took forever to get out the door this morning and you damn well know I overslept!**

_Tetchy, tetchy! I'd think you didn't enjoy yourself last night. -Lucky_

**I did. But I shouldn't have stayed up so late.**

_Not my fault, I was happy to end at 3-2. You're the one that insisted on evening things up. -Lucky_

**I didn't hear you complaining. You know how competitive I can be. **

_I do indeed. Have a great day. I'll talk to you later. –Lucky_

* * *

_Ok. They're obviously interacting on a pretty regular level, more than just phone calls and texts_. Garcia knew she had a reputation for having her mind in the gutter so much she'd earned squatter's rights but she was actively working to NOT see anything suggestive in the messages. So why could she feel herself beginning to blush?

* * *

_How do you always manage to look so amazing at the end of the day? Are you stopping to reapply makeup and style your hair before I see you? Because you know that's not playing nice. -Lucky_

**When have I ever played nice? But no, I am not primping for you – not anymore anyway. You just have a psychotically biased perception.**

_I am one hundred percent objective. And I object to being called psychotic. I should not be insulted for simply having pointed out that you're beautiful. -Lucky_

**Yeah, right.**

_You are! I know you don't always think so, especially with . . . Look. Take the compliment. If you don't I'll come up with more and make you _**_really_** _uncomfortable. -Lucky_

**Fine. Thank you. You're not too bad yourself. . . . Psycho.**

* * *

_Maybe it's a weird way for her and Will to flirt? Like role-playing undercover?_ Adding the elements of mystery and danger could certainly spice up a marriage. Lord knows there were times Garcia wondered if those two weren't taking each other just a bit for granted. JJ talked often and easily about Henry but not so much her husband.

The flirting was even kind of sweet, just the sort of random and spontaneous compliment guaranteed to catch JJ off guard and make her smile. It would be good if Will could reassure her of how beautiful she still was. Penelope knew that some of JJ's scars were physical as well as emotional. She'd changed the way she dressed; she didn't see herself the same way anymore, even if others did.

_Except . . .Lucky doesn't sound like Will._ He would have had to change his vocabulary, sentence structure and even some of his sense of humor. That would take a lot of commitment for the sake of a sex game. Plus, Garcia was pretty sure Will could never disguise himself that well. The man could put Louisiana twang into an emoticon.

Still, just in case it was Will and Garcia was intruding on marital conversations she decided to skip any messages that might invade their intimacy.

* * *

_What are you wearing? - Lucky_

* * *

SKIP!

* * *

**I have the most wicked idea for later.**

* * *

SKIP!

* * *

_Red silk or black lace? - Lucky_

**Black silk.**

* * *

SKIP!

* * *

**Tea just isn't the same without you.**

_Tea? Taking a break from coffee? Is this a body snatcher?! -Lucky_

**I just wanted to wake up with something warm and sweet and comforting. Tea will have to do since you obviously aren't available.**

(Here there was an almost 8 minute break in the conversation. Distraction? Trying to absorb the blatant suggestion? Or just figuring out what to say?)

**Uhm – it was a compliment?**

_Did you have another fight? -Lucky_

**Stop reading me. Things have just been a bit tense. My schedule has gotten crazier since we're down one –**

(_Down one and her schedule is harder. She's talking about the team. It did get rough there for a while after Alex left._ The stress of the increased work load had gotten mixed in with the sadness of Blake leaving, everyone's concern for Reid and, of course, her own issues with having shot a man. Had no one been paying attention to JJ all that time?)

**-And I got a bit of a guilt trip last night for not spending as much time at home or with family. I was too tired to argue and woke up with all the bad vibe clinging to me. It felt like I'd slept in sad Saran Wrap.**

_There's a visual to ponder. Is there anything I can do? -Lucky_

**You know what you can do.**

_Anything other than that? -Lucky_

**I had to try.**

_Stop making your pouty face. I know you are. -Lucky_

**Then make me smile.**

_Okay. How about a live chat? Call me at lunch. I promise I'll drop everything. -Lucky_

**I'm smiling already.**

* * *

_It can't be Will_. Garcia frowned as she realized JJ was complaining to someone else about fights in her marriage and stress at work. Someone who knew her well enough to know her situation, tastes and habits as well as read her mood through text messages.

* * *

**Did you finish the book I sent?**

_I did. I liked the treatment of the characters and the easy variation from bald descriptions to florid language depending on the perspective. -Lucky_

**Uh-huh. But? Come on. I seriously hear the 'but' on the tip of your tongue.**

_I'm old-fashioned. I hate reading on a screen. It could be Shakespeare or Tolstoy and it still wouldn't feel right unless I had pages I could touch. -Lucky_

**I wanted to give you the actual book but . . .**

_I know. I'm glad there are at least the digital surrogates. -Lucky_

**How about this? It's your turn to pick the next one. What if you call tomorrow and read me a chapter?**

_I think I can manage that. –Lucky_

* * *

_Now they're just being purposefully vague, damn it!_ Penelope growled as she saw how carefully no reference was ever made to ANY detail that she could trace. There were no names, no days/dates, no titles of books or brands or or ANYTHING that she could cross reference in a search!

The small, rational part of Garcia's brain that wasn't summoning up vicious curses to cast and revenges to wreak was quietly murmuring that generally burner phones are _meant_ to keep people and conversations completely untraceable. That was the whole fracking point.

_I WILL find out who you are. Bastard._

* * *

_I really wish I could see you right now. It would make the world a little less shitty. -Lucky_

**Swearing? You must be having a really bad day. What's going on?**

_Just that, a really bad day. Ever feel like Sisyphus and the boulder? I think I'm a smear on the hill at this point. -Lucky_

**Vague as ever, aren't you? One day you'll actually tell me what you're feeling.**

_Please, I cannot have that conversation again right now. -Lucky_

**I'm sorry! I was trying to tease. Guess I should've thrown in one of those winking symbols.**

_No, I overreacted. I'm sorry. I probably shouldn't be talking to you right now, just too worn out. -Lucky_

**I'm always here for you, no matter how rough or worn you are. For what it's worth? You aren't Sisyphus. You're Atlas holding up the heavens: keeping order for everyone by shouldering tremendous burden.**

(Several minutes passed again and Garcia was starting to get a feel for the thoughtful silences that were occurring in the conversations. They were emotional pauses and somehow spoke volumes.)

_How do you do that? -Lucky_

**What?**

_Always know the perfect thing to say? Make the world a good place again so easily? -Lucky_

**Because I'm me and I know you. You make my world a good place every day.**

_Thank you. -Lucky _

**I miss you.**

_I miss you too. –Lucky_

* * *

Garcia really was blushing now. The conversation hadn't been at all flirtatious or teasing the way some of the others were. It was just . . .intimate. It managed in sadness to reveal more depth of their emotional connection than any of the happy, playful banter could convey. They reached out to each other for comfort and this was the first bit of revelation that made Penelope feel like a snoop. That sort of vulnerability obviously wasn't meant to be shared by anyone other than the two.

_I'm going to hell._ The tech mumbled, too far invested to stop now.

* * *

_I assume you wanted my attention? -Lucky_

**What makes you say that?**

_I got the Snap chat picture. Which, by the way, I'm certain was never meant for anyone over the age of 22. -Lucky_

**Just because you're out of touch with your inner child . . .**

_Your inner child is a juvenile delinquent. Albeit a cute one. -Lucky_

**Why thank you. Charmer. I almost forgive you for missing the morning call.**

_Sorry, got stuck in a meeting with a particularly loquacious blowhard. You know the type. -Lucky_

**God's gift to comb-overs and halitosis?**

_Like W.C. Fields in an Armani suit. But I digress, why did I get a 10 second picture of your tongue? -Lucky_

**Hello? Because I wanted your attention! It happens I'm free tonight. . . .**

_Free? What about . . .? -Lucky_

**They're going to a ball game. Normally I'd go with them but you know I hate basketball.**

_Ah yes. Football, soccer, rugby and even golf are all acceptable entertainments but for some reason that orange ball just offends you. -Lucky_

**It's all the jumping up and down! At least in soccer we have the sense to only get on our feet when something IMPORTANT happens. Damn basketball fans are up and down so much they might as well be doing a permanent wave. Besides, I was thinking we could watch some of that series you sent me?**

_Now you're just being evil. You KNOW you're going to pass out on me and I won't sleep until I finish every episode. -Lucky_

**So? It's the weekend! You can sleep tomorrow. You know you want to.**

_Yes. I do. Damn it. Call me when they're gone? -Lucky_

**Instantly.**

* * *

Penelope stared at the words on the phone, trying to find a meaning – any twist, distortion or hint – other than the plain truth staring at her.

"She's cheating on Will." She whispered aloud, the words sounding even more horrible on her lips than in her head. It wasn't possible. JJ loved her family. She believed in being open and honest in everything and had promised to never again keep secrets after the Hastings debacle. She wouldn't abandon Henry and she'd never hurt Will. How could this happen? What could she possibly have found in someone else that she didn't already have either at home or with her BAU family? Was she in some kind of emotional break or having a crisis?

Pushing her shock and confusion down Garcia shook herself. She'd started this crime for the purpose of finding out what was wrong with JJ and if an affair was part of it, it was still only a part. Whatever - whoever – this relationship was, it went back further than the recent change in JJ's mood. She needed to look more recently for clues of what had happened. She didn't have to scroll far to see a change.

Starting two weeks ago, only Lucky was making contact.

* * *

_Missed you last night. -Lucky_

_No good morning? Is everything ok? -Lucky_

_If you're grumpy I have a whole list of funny videos on youtube for you. -Lucky_

_Did you lose your phone? It's my turn to swap numbers but I won't until I hear from you. -Lucky_

_Are you out of service area? Must be something important. Call me when you get back. -Lucky_

_Saw an awesome documentary is going to be on this week – do you want to catch it? -Lucky_

_It's been 5 days. Something is wrong. What's going on? -Lucky_

_Imagination getting a bit overworked now. Are you sick? Injured? Did someone hurt you? -Lucky_

_Please. Please just tell me you're ok. -Lucky_

_A four second voice mail left while I'm obviously in the middle of work isn't very reassuring. -Lucky_

_Nine days. I'm now pretty sure you're mad at me. What did I do? -Lucky_

_I'm sorry for whatever it is! I can't make it up to you if you won't talk to me! -Lucky_

_I have now called you over 100 times. I don't know which of us wins the prize for being stubborn. -Lucky_

_I want to fix this. I NEED to fix this with you. I can't lose you. Talk to me, Please! Please tell me what happened! -Lucky_

_I know you're in pain. Call me when you're ready to let me help. –Lucky_

* * *

The last message had been the first she found. Sent barely over an hour earlier. The worry and pain was all but glowing off the phone (although that was actually the back light) and Garcia couldn't deny a stab of pity for whoever this home wrecker was. No one deserved two weeks of silence. If JJ had made the mistake of having an affair, this wasn't the way to fix it. This was the way to make things even worse and pretty much guarantee a crazy person showed up on her doorstep to do something stupid.

Penelope wasn't going to let that happen.

* * *

_Please send comments and feedback. Thank you._


	3. Communication

**Chapter Three**

**Communication**

"Much unhappiness has come into the world because of bewilderment and things left unsaid."  
― Fyodor Dostoyevsky

Penelope would have liked to turn her steel resolve into immediate action, storming back into JJ's office with compassionate militancy and demanding that this mysterious problem be resolved at once. However, even she knew that she had actual work to do other than controlling the soap opera of her co-workers' lives. They never seemed to notice – given how frequently they wrapped her up in each of their minor personal dramas – but she was aware that the mountain of paperwork and infinite sea of waiting emails had to be waded through in order to keep her job.

Demands on her powers of unfettered omniscience occasionally made her regret becoming the Oracle of Quantico. Then she would create a program to do all the work for her and simply pity the lesser gods. There was, unfortunately, no simple solution for the Luddite papers that still accumulated in her bastion of modernization, soiling the digital perfection with their analogue presence. Because of such cursed fossils, she found her entire afternoon sucked down a forest-destroying sinkhole. She wouldn't even have realized it was quitting time if not for a familiar, sensual voice greeting her.

"Baby Girl, I know you've been a total machine all day but you gotta rest sooner or later. C'mon, we can get some Thai and find out what has your brain flying so separate from your fingers." Morgan leaned against the door to her office in the pose Garcia privately thought of as 'seductive blasé.'

"The no profiling rule applies to ALL of the BAU, delicious hero of all things naughty, which includes me. Wait, is that the time?" Garcia was grinning up at him but sobered when she saw the clock. _Damn. Wait, everyone here is a workaholic, she probably hasn't left yet._

"Unless Hotch snuck in here and changed all the clocks to make you go home earlier. Now, you gonna tell me what's going on? You barely poked your head out of here all day and I didn't get a single inappropriate lunchtime invitation." He put on his best wounded expression channeling simultaneously a wounded lover, neglected sibling and kicked puppy. It was usually pure kryptonite for Garcia but she was already stuffing her tablets and laptop into a bag and securing her system.

"Oh, my statue of Nubian marble. Much as I would love to immerse myself in the luxury of our banter – duty calls and I must answer." She shouldered the bags, kissed his cheek and clacked down the hall at ridiculously high speed in pursuit of her mission.

JJ's office was empty but Rossi confirmed the blonde had only just left. Apparently she had been quite agitated and spent the last hour stripping her office and desk several times over in search of something lost. Garcia was hot on her trail instantly, the stolen burner phone feeling like lead in her pocket.

She got to the lot just as JJ was climbing into her comfortable, family-oriented-yet-still-luxurious SUV and without hesitating Penelope grabbed the passenger side door and leaped in. JJ jumped and nearly screamed. Her hand had even been instinctively going for her gun.

"Pen! Jeez you scared me!" JJ gasped but still smiled, "You know, if you wanted an invitation to dinner you could just ask!"

The simple teasing humor was almost enough to make the analyst lose her will. She could just joke back, slip the burner into the crack between the seat and door and then escape like nothing had happened. _No. That's not going to fix anything. _Taking a deep gulp of air she launched into the approach she'd spent most of the afternoon silently rehearsing.

"JJ, I need your help. I did something really awful and as much as I hate myself for it I don't regret doing it but I want to make it right. I don't think you'll be able to forgive me but that's not even what's most important anymore."

"Penelope, don't be ridiculous. There is nothing you could do that I wouldn't be able to understand or forgive." JJ tried to protest but Garcia just steamrolled right over her words.

"But before you forgive me you have to answer something! I need to know this, JJ."

"Pen-," JJ's grip on the steering wheel tightened, bracing for another round of interrogation.

"Who is he?" Penelope demanded quietly. The question brought absolute silence to the car interior. JJ stared at her friend, confusion swirling the color of her eyes.

"What? Who is who?" the sincere bewilderment raised the first pinch of doubt in Garcia's mind. No one could fake ignorance that well.

"The other guy. The one you're seeing without Will knowing?"

"The – I'm what? You think I'm sneaking around with some guy behind Will's back?" JJ looked a little hurt but mostly astonished. At any moment she might burst into laughter at the sheer ridiculousness of the idea.

"Is it someone from your past? An undercover contact? Did you meet someone in the Middle East and stay in touch?"

"Pen, seriously, I have NO idea what you're talking about. I really can't give you an answer until you calm down and start making sense!" JJ was laughing now, a gentle chuckle that she couldn't quite contain as she watched her friend struggle with her own histrionic streak.

"Who is Lucky?!" that wiped the smile off JJ's face. The agent didn't reply, just looked very hard at Garcia, trying to divine the extent and source of her knowledge.

"I told you I hate myself for it." Penelope guiltily pulled the burner phone from her pocket and laid it on the car's center console like a peace offering. JJ sighed, running a hand over her face for a minute before reaching to take the phone. She hesitated before touching it, like it might suddenly come to life at the barest graze of her fingers.

"How long have you been seeing him? And who is he? And for God's sake, JJ, why?" the conviction came back into Garcia's voice as she watched JJ's reaction but she stayed gentle. She could see pain engulfing the blonde's features and wanted only to wrap her in a huge cucumber-melon scented hug.

"Pen. I am not having an affair." JJ put forceful truth into every word. Yet, for all the sincerity in her words, she didn't seem willing to budge on discussing Lucky.

"He knows too much about you, J. You guys share TV shows and books and coffee. You meet for lunch and apparently have spent nights together repeatedly! I don't even want to know what score you spent all night evening up. You seem to spend every spare minute you can get with him and now he's absolutely heartbroken that you've left him. What do you call it?"

JJ sighed and stared heavenward. The roomy interior of the car felt like it grew heavier with each passing breath. Then, rather spontaneously, the tension broke. JJ's shoulders squared into a determined posture and she leveled a clear, unflinching gaze on Penelope.

"It isn't an affair, Pen. It's physically impossible," her expression of amusement could only be called a wry smirk, "Lucky is 3,500 miles away. We 'see' and 'meet' each through video chats. We spend the night watching the same TV shows on speakerphone and trading commentary. And I was not going to end the night beaten by 'Zygotes' on a triple word score!"

"Zygo – what?" Garcia had a tremendously high powered intellect but it had been moving at full speed in one direction and now faced the disorientation of a roadblock. JJ broke down laughing. She should've been angry and offended and felt violated or insulted but she just couldn't help the laughter bubbling out of her. Rationally she knew that some of the maniacal giggles were just the relief of finally breaking the tension that had been knotting her stomach. She could finally let it out.

"It's Scrabble, Garcia! Lucky is Emily." She calmed herself enough to get the words out clearly.

"Lucky. Prentiss?" Penelope just stared, perhaps not willing to accept her own relief at being so wrong.

"After Doyle, Emily and I setup a safety network. An emergency fall back in case our worst case scenarios happened. Then Hastings came along" JJ looked down to her lap, tucking hair behind her ear as she warred to keep memories at bay, "And, well, she saved my life so obviously the plans had worked but it was way too close. Neither of us can face something like that again. So before she went back we set up a more elaborate system. Burner phones that are regularly swapped out, bolt holes that are moved around the city, cover ID's and passports, emergency code signals; I never realized just how good Emily could be at running or hiding until I saw what we built."

"Does Will know? Shouldn't he be part of this whole super-secret backup plan safety net?" Garcia vaguely recalled Morgan telling her about a case where a woman left her husband and took their daughter because they weren't part of his 'escape plan.' What if Will felt the same?

"If it ever comes to that, Emily knows what to do. Will can't be my safety, Penelope. Don't misunderstand me; he's a good man, a wonderful father and skilled cop but he's not," JJ's mouth seemed about to form one word before quickly choosing another, "trained. He's not FBI or BAU. He hasn't been through what we have."

_Yes, but the rest of the team has yet you still didn't pick them either. You didn't choose Will because he isn't Emily._ Garcia carefully controlled her expression so the thought couldn't leak out.

"But, calling her Lucky? Honestly, it sounds like a greasy gambler character from a bad western!"

JJ hesitated again. Penelope could tell that she wasn't holding back for her own sake. The moment Jareau revealed Lucky's identity she'd obviously decided to open up and share all her _own_ secrets with Garcia. But sharing Emily's might cross some invisible line.

"My emergency code was Blackbird. It's now my name on Emily's burner. Do you know why?" JJ chewed her lip.

"Uhm, no. Emily just told us it was you."

"Well, I'm not going to pull my shirt up and show you but it's a tattoo I have. I got it after - after coming back from the Middle East assignment. Emily has, well, she has something kind of similar." Unconsciously, JJ's fingers rested on her own chest, off center from the sternum.

_Just over her heart._ Garcia recognized the location and the pieces snapped together.

"Lucky clover. Oh god, the shamrock brand? The one Doyle made?"

"She hated it at first," JJ admitted, a little chagrined to be sharing another person's feelings, "But the more we talked about it the more she realized she was lucky to have survived. To have been found by Morgan in time? To have died, not once but TWICE and still come out alive? She started to laugh and point out that only dead men had the shamrock erased but she was alive and she damn well intended to stay that way. Then when Doyle was gone and she could come back, she decided to ink it in with color to celebrate. It's actually quite beautiful now."

The obsessive data collector in Garcia's brain noted the far away but happy look in JJ's eyes as she told the story. She also filed the mention that JJ had seen the tattoo. Just how far down on the chest was it anyway?

"So, you two hatched a plan to keep each other safe. I get that," and she really did; both women had dropped everything they were doing on different ends of the globe to come running when the other was in danger. You don't mess with that kind of intensity, "But all the messages and calls? I know you two were always close but I think you talk to her more from 3,500 miles away than you do to me from 30 feet."

She wasn't hurt. Penelope was not going to be jealous of another friend, particularly not one as close as Emily. They'd been thick as thieves, the three of them together. She was not going to be upset that somewhere along the way JJ and Emily had taken the friendship to a level that didn't include her. Besides, she still had plenty of her own suspicions about the nature of the relationship.

"Pen, you have to understand: when Emily went back to London I was still putting myself back together. I was traumatized and frightened and angry at it all. I had nightmares all night long and mood swings during the day. I yelled at Will or hid from Henry. I was terrified that I never would be myself again and Emily became my lifeline. She'd been there, knew how it all felt. I talked to her every day because at first I didn't feel safe unless I'd heard from her. She kept me sane. She would literally talk me through my day sometimes," a fond, grateful smile accompanied the admission, "Then, as things came more under control and life returned to normal we just kept the routine going. It was comfortable and reassuring and as long as I heard from her every day in some way I knew she was safe. As long as she was safe, I would be too."

The simple, smiling shrug was a confession that she didn't really understand it completely either. JJ only knew that this was how it had happened and it had worked. Or it had, up until two weeks ago. Perhaps that same thought had just drifted through her mind because a shadow passed over her expression. There was that glint of pain Garcia had been seeing all day; that Reid had noticed for weeks.

"Oh, JJ," Penelope took hold of her hand in a gentle squeeze, "Thank you for trusting me with all this and not hating me! Everything really does make sense, except for the fact that now you aren't talking to her! You can't do that to her, JJ. You know Emily, hurt her even a bit and she'll hide from you forever."

"Other people can be hurt too." JJ scowled, trying to pull her hand away from the comfort but Garcia wouldn't let her.

"Everyone can be hurt. Everyone _is_ hurting. For anything to change someone has to want to heal," a final reassuring squeeze to JJ's hand and Garcia released her, "On that note, I will let you go home. Hug our boy. Get some rest. Be _safe._"

Out of the car, Penelope watched JJ's sedan lights disappear down the road. She returned to her own beloved Esther, throwing her bags in the back seat. She drove home, absently humming Blackbird and hoping JJ would be smart enough to do what was needed. At this point Garcia was completely convinced: what JJ needed was Emily.

_Blackbird fly Blackbird fly__  
__Into the light of the dark black night._

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_Please review if you enjoyed. Also, send comments and feedback since it influences the unfolding plot.  
_


	4. Hurt

**Chapter Four**

**Hurt**

"I have learned now that while those who speak about one's miseries usually hurt, those who keep silence hurt more."  
― C.S. Lewis

JJ glanced at the clock in the kitchen as she pulled the cap from a bottle of vodka. Usually she preferred nothing more than a glass of good red wine and seldom even that. Tonight, however, seemed to demand a medicinal edge. Her nervous hand poured unevenly and an errant splash over the edge of the glass proved she was shaking. 10:27 pm. It had taken much longer than usual for Will to tire and go to bed. Most nights he was asleep by 9:30, barely able to stay conscious long enough for them to talk about their day and the coming plans. Had he somehow sensed her quiet desperation to be alone? Or perhaps he'd simply seen the confused anxiety behind her eyes each time she looked away.

_I should've just told him. Not like he doesn't know Em and I talk all the time. He has to have noticed that I haven't been calling her. Or texting. Or playing games. Or sleeping. _JJ massaged the bridge of her nose. This was just too ridiculously screwed up. She was hoping Will would notice and . . .what? Call up Emily and yell at her on JJ's behalf? Pathetic. No. She had to sort this out.

10:34. She was already halfway through her glass of Ciroc and she had to call now. Now before she lost her nerve. Now before she drank anymore and ended up losing control and saying something stupid or wrong or true.

Checking on Henry's peaceful sleep once more, JJ returned to her office in the corner of the house and closed the door. With only the desk lamp lighting the room she settled onto the small sofa where Henry liked to sit and practice reading (mostly with sound effects) and thumbed the controls of her burner phone.

She held her breath.

One ring. The line actually picked up before the first ring had ended. The voice on the other end hesitated, steeling itself.

"This is Lucky." The rich timbre sounded heavier than usual, throaty and raw.

"It's Blackbird. It's ok, Emily, it's me. I'm safe." JJ forced herself to keep her voice even but she felt her throat wanting to catch on the reassurances.

"Jennifer! Thank god." Emily's breath of relief was trembling on the other end of the line.

"I'm sorry it's so late, did I wake you up?" JJ knew that the 5 hour time difference had made evening calls the least predictable. Some nights her calls went to voicemail and she would get a replying message in the early morning hours long after she'd passed out. Other nights Emily would be waiting by the phone, determined to have one sane, happy moment in 24 hours of hell.

"What do you think?" the chuckle was ironic but not forced. JJ could clearly picture the brunette sitting at the austere table in her London flat, one leg folded underneath her as she rested her face in her hand.

"I think that you haven't slept a wink for the last week other than the times you collapsed from exhaustion." JJ didn't add that she knew there would be case files scattered all around her because work kept her awake. The files would almost certainly be half Interpol assignments and the rest would be about any and every threat that could've entered JJ's life. The stubborn woman wouldn't sleep unless she passed out and even then she probably dreamed of the monsters she hunted.

"Very good. I knew you'd end up being the best profiler of the whole team." The compliment was genuine but the words felt stilted. Emily was forcing herself to say the right things, nothing wrong and nothing more until JJ had said what she needed. She probably wanted to yell at her, to demand answers, to curse her for all the worry and pain. _No, actually, that would've been a normal reaction._ JJ smiled sadly as she realized why Emily was so quiet. _She's already put it all behind walls. The fear, the hurt, the confusion; she's tucked all of it into a compartment far removed from herself in this moment and conversation. She does it so she won't flinch – not even from thousands of miles away._

"Emily, I'm sorry. What I did was completely wrong. I didn't mean to worry you."

"Worry? JJ, I thought you'd been hurt or taken or," there was a hard swallow on the other end of the line, "I didn't know who I could call, who could be compromised, traced, watched - I ran every search I could from Interpol and I guarantee you: we don't have _anyone_ as skilled as Penelope to help me."

The words were faintly joking but JJ heard an edge beneath the humor. It was an emotion still too far removed to identify. It could've been anger, panic, injury or even just pain.

"I know, Em. I'm sorry I –,"

"Stop apologizing, Jennifer. Just tell me what happened. One night we're joking about Morgan having to pull a drunken witness off Reid and the next morning total radio silence. Not even a hint of you. I grew up in foreign embassies with diplomats for family and still never experienced a silence as complete and angry as that."

Now the walls were thinning. The words were gentle, imploring; desperate even. JJ took a gulp of vodka and plunged into the conversation she'd been trying so hard to avoid.

"Hotch told us he offered you the job," She blurted. The news was met with dead silence though she thought she'd heard a sharp breath of surprise,

"He told us he'd offered it to you first and you said no. That you didn't want to come back," now JJ felt her anger, a fire rising in her belly, "It hurt, Emily. Knowing you didn't want to come home _hurt_. I was upset and angry and couldn't figure out how to say any of this to you and I still don't really know what I'm saying except – Are you really that happy over there? Is your career so important that you'd rather be head of a London office than part of a family?"

She hadn't shouted or even raised her voice. Her words were evenly spaced and calm but her throat stung like she'd been roaring into a sandstorm. The emotions she'd been fighting to process (or at least suppress) were raw behind her eyes and twisted up a knot of nausea in her stomach. The same words kept circling in her mind, her reaction two weeks ago to Hotch's almost off-hand report; _Emily wouldn't do that. Emily wouldn't. _She'd believed that with all her heart. She just _knew_ that after Emily had come to her rescue and helped her through so much she would find her way back to the team so their family could be complete again.

It couldn't be her career. JJ was certain about that. BAU was everything Emily had ever wanted. Garcia had once asked Prentiss if she ever saw herself back in Europe with her old team or rising higher in the FBI ranks. The brunette's reply had been so typical of her entire nature. _"I learned more from my mother than she intended. I learned that ambition without end is just a type of greed. I've gotten to where I want to be. Now I can simply work on being better."_ Politics and promotions meant nothing to Emily, JJ was sure of it.

The sound of Emily beginning to speak interrupted her meditations.

"Oh, JJ," her voice was soft and almost broken, "I didn't mean for you to find out that way. I wanted to tell you myself. I should've told you the minute Hotch called."

"You're right, you should have." It was now JJ's turn to be quiet and wait for answers. It gave her time to get a handle on her feelings; she needed to pull her reactions under control so that they could have this conversation and not make things worse. She hadn't realized just how intense everything felt until she noticed her eyes burning with tears. She wiped them off her cheeks, angry at the betrayal of her own body.

"I was trying to figure out the right way to tell you so you wouldn't be upset. Not the greatest plan, I guess." Prentiss admitted and JJ actually smiled because she could see the way her brunette friend would rake her fingers through her hair in exasperation.

"Nope. Not by a long shot. But I always knew you were part moron," JJ teased, knowing that if she was smiling she wanted Emily to do the same, "I'm listening now, Em. I won't say I'm not upset but I can hear what you have to say."

"I'm just not ready, JJ. To come back," she quickly clarified, "I may not be part of something as special as BAU here in London but I am stopping criminals and keeping people safe and here I can almost sleep without nightmares after every day of work."

"Nightmares? Emily, you saw the worst possible criminals and the most gruesome crimes without ever batting an eye. You can't tell me you've suddenly gone squeamish." JJ shook her head.

Prentiss had always been almost robotic in her ability to ignore the horrors they all encountered. Emily never blinked, it was a team legend. Somehow she stayed so focused on her actual task that nothing – no risk, no threat, no terror, no disgust – could shake her determination to hunt down and stop criminals. It had made JJ admire her at first until she realized it came at a certain emotional expense. It cost Emily to keep everything at arm's length the way she did and took its toll on the rest of her relationships but she paid the price without murmur.

"It isn't what they did, Jen," Emily was the only one who called her by that name, "It's what they _could_ do. The dangers the team faces every case, the threat of old UnSubs or entirely unexpected partners suddenly appearing to exact revenge; at least here I don't have to worry about the people I chase hurting my family."

JJ knew Emily wasn't talking about her relatives. Her relationships with blood family were strained at best. If Emily said 'family' she meant the BAU and the team that had come closer to knowing and understanding her than any other living beings. Even if they could never understand her completely, they loved her unconditionally. That was family, right?

"So you'd rather work with a team that you don't care about?" JJ stretched out on the sofa, resting back on a pillow and staring at the ceiling. From this position she could almost pretend Emily was in the room with her.

"I want to do my job and keep people safe. The best place for me to do that right now is here. I should've told you that two weeks ago. I didn't really understand it then. I didn't know how to say it without making you upset."

"So, you avoided talking to me because you didn't want to upset me and then I got upset and avoided talking to you." JJ summarized with an ironic chuckle.

"We're just a twisted O. Henry story, aren't we?" Emily agreed with a laugh. They were both silent for a space, perhaps seconds or minutes but neither kept track of anything other than the regular interval of breath from the other side of the phone. The comfort of simply hearing that familiar sound again created an aching swell of relief in JJ's chest.

"I've missed you." the blonde admitted.

"Me too. Now, we can either spend the rest of the night feeling bad and apologizing to each other or we can actually catch up. Which will it be?" Emily could go from tender to demanding like a light switch. It had to be part of the compartmentalization; done in this particular emotional room, time for the next!

"Well, Henry caught a squirrel two days ago." JJ offered and at the astonishment in her ear she knew she'd chosen a good story for seguing back into their comfortable routine. The consequences of an Elmer Fudd cartoon segued to more family stories and of course JJ couldn't talk long about Henry without Penelope making an appearance. Talk of Penelope led inevitably to the team and eventually, in passing, JJ mentioned Kate Callahan.

"The new agent. How is she?" Emily had always made it clear she respected JJ's evaluation of other team members. If she said someone was good, they always were. If she said she was worried, there was reason to be. If she said she thought they were just passing through, (as she had about Blake) she was right.

JJ only groaned and tossed her arm over her eyes, trying to ward off the subject.

"Wow. That bad?" Prentiss had never heard such a despondent opinion from the blonde.

"No, no. She's good. A natural and she seems motivated." JJ immediately corrected the misunderstanding.

"So spill, Jareau. What's the problem?"

JJ chewed her lip for a moment, knowing she was about to sound ridiculous.

"I really wish they'd hire a redhead for a change." She sighed, listening for an answer of suppressed laughter.

"A redhead," Emily repeated flatly, "Is that some new personal preference of yours?"

"Emily, this is the second brunette woman in a pants-suit that they've hired for your position. I'm starting to think it's deliberate! Do you know how often I glance out the bullpen and get excited for half a second because I see a glimpse of brown hair at your desk? For just that moment I think you've come back and everything can be normal again. It doesn't matter how long it's been or how often it happens; it always feels like you just left all over again."

JJ had spent a LOT of time staring out her window at Emily's desk over the last two weeks. It hadn't been 'Emily's Desk' in over two years but she'd never stopped thinking of it that way. She'd find herself remembering countless hours of seeing Prentiss' perfect posture filling out paperwork, bantering with Morgan, teasing Reid. Then she'd remember the scant moments hardly anyone else ever saw; the times when the posture gave in and Emily tucked in on herself, looking small and weary from the weight of the world. She gave herself those seconds of weakness only when no one could see because they'd all left or weren't paying attention. JJ didn't doubt that Hotch and Rossi had noticed them on occasion but she was certain no one saw them as often as she did.

"If it helps, I know how you feel," Emily cut into JJ's wandering thoughts, "Over here I have three blondes under me-,"

"Under you, huh? Right now?" JJ jumped in, helpless to resist such a perfect opening. She could almost hear her friend's blush.

"I'm not going to commiserate if you're just going to be a smart ass." Emily shot back.

"Fine, we'll get back to the orgy later. You were saying?" JJ fought to keep her giggles stifled. She loved rattling Emily's virtuous dignity from time to time with a bit of adolescent humor. She loved it even more when Emily played back and revealed that her sophisticated façade was just that. She might not be able to swap "that's what she said" jokes but she knew double entendre backwards and forwards and definitely underneath.

"What I obviously meant to say is that in my department three blondes _report to me_. One has your build and two have your hair. I can't get through a single day without seeing flashes of you in every direction. It's starting to feel like I'm being haunted."

"Serves you right. I'm going to haunt you forever, Emily Prentiss." JJ smiled, pleased with the potential of such a curse.

"I know you will." Emily replied with the throaty chuckle that only JJ could ever earn. Neither of them dared think about why a joke could feel so true.

* * *

_Did I mention this is my first time doing CM fic? I'm concerned with keeping characters authentic so please provide feedback - I want to bend the existing characters to my will, not distort them._

_Also - this whole fic was born with season 10x1 X. A tiny, almost incidental comment from Hotch that Emily didn't want to come back. Pretty much broke my heart so I decided it had to have hurt others as well._


	5. Chaos

_Some patience here, please. This chapter and the next are necessary framing. See, there IS an actual plot and now I have to get to it. _

* * *

**Chapter Five**

**Chaos**

"In all chaos there is a cosmos, in all disorder a secret order."

-Carl Jung

Emily strode into the London Interpol NCA (National Crime Agency) with her usual efficient demeanor and inscrutable expression. Quick nods to several team members let her move swiftly across the main floor and into her private office. Only once she'd set down her briefcase, removed her jacket and finger-combed the English damp out of her hair did she allow herself a brief smile.

She shouldn't be so happy on only 3 hours of rest but it was the longest and best sleep she'd had in weeks. Around 4:30 am she realized JJ had fallen asleep on the other side of the phone. It wasn't all that surprising, she'd heard the woman yawning for almost half an hour but JJ refused to get off the phone and go to bed. Finally, Emily had decided to read to her and deliberately chose a play by Sartre. Any other evening JJ would've protested the dry material but last ni- no, _this morning_ she just made a contented murmur and listened as Emily began reading No Exit. JJ barely made it past Inez's entrance.

Emily allowed herself another small smile; translating Jean-Paul Sartre from original French after 4 in the morning was quite the accomplishment. If her languages got rusty in the US she'd certainly polished them back up to perfection.

"Tea, boss?" Lorna poked her head in the office.

"Yes, please." Emily nodded, masking all her thoughts and beginning to sort the files that magically appeared on her desk overnight. _I swear this was clear when I left._ She frowned at the stack of folders.

The mug of steaming earl grey appeared to her left along with another handful of documents. She'd thought the paperwork at BAU was going to drown her but nothing could've prepared her for this. Communicating with 190 police forces internationally was already nearly impossible; add to that the challenge of just getting the bloody CoLP to not dismiss her as an interfering Yankee and it was a miracle her stomach lining hadn't simply combusted.

"Do we have the information Estonia requested on the trafficking ring?" Emily scanned the titles on the mountain of case data, quickly organizing them in her head according to date and severity.

"Already sent it in this morning and got them interfacing with the known origin countries. Eighteen girls so far and all from Singapore." Lorna nodded and quickly supplied the relevant documentation.

"That's too far for open ocean travel. They might be doing parts of the transport by sea but they have to cross borders for short cuts. Get in touch with," Emily paused, looking at the world map on her far wall, _Christ that's a lot of land to cover_, "These eight country agencies. Tell them to look for suspects with an English-speaking background. They keep passing through here for a reason; it may be that this is their comfort zone."

She scribbled down the eight countries that provided choke points for routes the smugglers could be taking. There were more options than that but it was best to start with the nations where they already had good contacts and relationships. China and Pakistan never liked getting their calls. _I really, really hate politics._ Emily frowned, realizing she'd ended up closer to diplomat than detective these days.

"You got it." Lorna took the orders and darted from the room. Everyone was quick to follow orders; even after two years they were all still slightly in awe of Prentiss.

She'd expected resistance when she came in to head up the London office but Clyde must have told some convincing stories (and a few fabrications) because Emily found the new JTF-12 to be immediately supportive, subordinate and eager to please. It was almost a year before Prentiss managed to corner Clyde on the subject and he confessed – after half a bottle of Jameson – that he MIGHT have shared some of Emily's private life with the team. When she was done being livid (which took almost a week) she gradually realized he'd done her a favor.

She walked into London Interpol as something of a legend. She was an ambassador's daughter that walked away from politics. She was one of Interpol's finest undercover operatives until it put her life in peril. She singlehandedly chased down one of their most wanted criminals after he escaped from prison (Emily objected on that one since the BAU had helped her but Clyde said his version made a better story). She had experience and authority with two of the Western world's most powerful crime-prevention agencies and might have slept with David Tennant (Emily objected here again but Clyde wasn't actually to blame – apparently the team had gotten rather fanciful in their imaginings).

All in all, walking into Interpol as a recognized champion meant that she didn't have to earn anything. She didn't have to kill herself being the best for approval. She could be the best simply because dammit she _was._

"All right, boss?" a delicate west country accent interrupted Emily's thoughts and stilled her continuously moving hands. Her mastery of languages notwithstanding, it had taken her a while to get use to the British slang again. The first hundred times her agents had greeted her with 'all right?' she'd immediately assumed she was broadcasting a suspicious behavior. It was truly beginning to worry her until this particular Dorset native explained it simply meant an innocent 'hello, how are you.'

"I've asked you guys to not call me that." Prentiss sighed and tossed her pen to the desk, leaning back to see Rebecca in her doorway. Unbidden, her thoughts flashed back to her conversation with JJ. Becca was one of the blondes that always made her pause for a heartbeat when Emily glimpsed her, wondering if she'd magically traveled through either space or time. She had a similar build to Jareau's lithe figure and her hair was the same corn silk blonde. _But none of them have her eyes._ Emily had stopped herself from saying as much over the phone. She could see dozens, even hundreds of slender, beautiful blondes but not a one could be JJ because only she had those achingly deep, oceanic eyes.

"It's not Boss, boss. Just, you know," the blonde woman shrugged helplessly, "boss."

"Very erudite, Fisher. Is everyone here?" Prentiss shook her head slightly but smiled to soften the sarcasm.

"Almost, Sally isn't in yet. Probably still a bit tied up." Becca smirked. Apparently every office had to have their own version of Garcia and though Fisher wasn't even close to being as technologically omnipotent, she supplied mountains of salacious suggestion that would've had Penelope misty with pride. It didn't help that Salinger was JTF-12's own version of Derek Morgan.

"We'll start without him. He'll get here soon enough." Emily rose and gathered the stack of files she'd whittled down during her morning tea. The blonde nodded and went to gather everyone to the conference room for briefing.

"Bristol constabulary has asked us to review their suspect list in the rash of recent murders. Apparently rounding up every thug with a record and mommy issues wasn't enough to stop another three women from getting killed." Emily began as soon as the four other members of her team had settled into their chairs. They all left the chair closest to the door empty out of consideration for the tardy team mate. It was habit.

"Finally. Like dubbing him the Bristol Butcher wasn't bad enough." Lorna frowned as she reviewed the file.

"That's the first thing we have to fix. Mike, can you get that name pulled from the media? At least keep it out of headlines. This guy is thriving on the attention." Prentiss shared the irritation. The media in the UK wasn't as aggressively morbid as she was used to in the US but once they had hold of an idea they were absolute bull dogs.

"Reviewing their suspect list isn't going to yield much. They've been looking at men with records, hardened criminals. These women are _willingly_ walking off with the bloke," Becca pointed out, ignoring how Emily winced at the slang, "I don't think middle class mums are going to fancy a yobbo."

"Maybe one or two interested in something exciting. Not nine of them though." Sean agreed, already mapping each last known sighting and confirmed dump site. He didn't have Reid's OCD perfection in drawing the circles for his geographic profile but he provided reliable results. _Stop thinking of home! Focus._ Emily snapped at herself internally. Sentiment always tried to get the better of her when she was exhausted.

"We can review the suspect lists here since that's all they've asked for so far but we really need to get on location to do a thorough work up." Emily glanced at Mike and Fisher, knowing that between them they could pressure the local police and media into nearly demanding the team be brought it.

She was just about ready to wrap up the simple briefing when her phone exploded into noise. Not just her phone, everyone's phones, all at once. The caller ID told her it was her errant agent and before she could even speak into the mouthpiece Salinger's voice erupted into her ear.

"Emily! Something's happened. I'm in Mayfair and there's been an explosion! The police and fire teams are coming but you have to get the team here. Hell, the whole damn NCA! It's bad!" the agent had to yell to be heard over the sirens and chaos of people screaming. Emily was on her feet instantly, seeing that all her agents were getting similar calls and notifications from across the city. Lorna turned on the TV and instantly it filled with footage of the high end market district – smoke spiraling into the sky as the crowds trampled each other in every direction.

"We're on our way, Sally," Prentiss bolted from the room, knowing the others were on her heels, "How close were you? Did you see what happened?"

"I was heading to the underground. I just heard the explosion and came up fast as I could. There must be three buildings on fire already."

"Ok. Just stay where you are. We'll be there in 10." Emily assured.

"Right, an explosion in the middle of London? We'll be lucky to be there in an hour." Lorna grumbled as she started the engine and raced onto the road.

"Light us up. Becca? Get in touch with Transportation, I want an open route. Mike, call Manchester NCB. Find out what they know." She gave the orders with easy calm. She'd have to call her section chief to get authorization to work the case. She'd have to call the Fusion Task Force to see if they had the terrorist angle. Before any of that, however, she had to send a text message.

* * *

JJ had awakened on the couch in her study, face aching because she'd fallen asleep with the phone still pressed to her ear. Her body was cramping from sleeping on the uncomfortable sofa and she felt like the seams and buttons of her clothes had all chewed into her skin. Despite all that she felt better than she had in weeks. The last thing she remembered was Emily's soothing voice reading to her and she smiled as she recalled the sedate perfection of such a lullaby. The world had righted itself. Even Henry could tell how much perkier mommy was, though he chose to comment primarily on the funny lines on her face. If Will noticed the difference he didn't comment on it.

"Morning, chère." He kissed her cheek as he handed her a cup of coffee. She mumbled a reply, gratefully sucking in the caffeine. Of course he noticed. He was a detective. All the same, JJ appreciated him not pushing her for explanations. He was happy because she was happy. She felt a dull pinch of guilt, wishing she could do the same for him.

Heading upstairs with her desperately needed mug of stimulant she glanced at the clock and realized there was no way in hell she was going to be on time for work today. She wouldn't be grossly late but it was only right she call ahead and let Hotch or Garcia know. She turned on the shower to let the water warm as she thumbed up Penelope's number.

"Hey, Pen, I thought I should let you know –,"

"Oh god! JJ! Have you heard from Emily? Is she ok? What's going on?!" Garcia was obviously already several cups of coffee ahead of JJ. Maybe the woman never slept, just wheeled around an IV bag of pure espresso to stay wired at all times.

"What? Pen, I talked to her last night, she was fine."

"You haven't seen yet. JJ, turn on your TV! It's on all the news!" Penelope ordered with such intensity that JJ instantly scrambled for the remote. Turning on the bedroom TV the screen immediately filled with smoke and carnage. It looked like the violent news of every day except . . . JJ stared. This wasn't a car bomb in Israel or a suicide bombing in the Middle East. The scrolling banner gave her facts she couldn't quite process. They were words without meaning. London. Bombing. Thirteen dead, forty-two wounded. Possible terrorist attack. Interagency Task Forces. London. Interpol. Terrorists. Interpol. _Emily._

"Oh god." JJ didn't even realized that the phone slipped out of her hand, clattering on the floor and barking at her with Garcia's worried voice.

"JJ? JJ? You're seeing it now, aren't you? Have you heard from Emily? JJ!"

_Emily._ JJ had already run out of the room, leaving the TV and shower both on and not giving a damn.

"Jayje? Chère, everything ok?" Will jumped out of the way as she raced past.

_She has to be ok. She doesn't live or work near there. Does she? She changes her route constantly. Would she have a reason to be in- shit, where was it? _

JJ grabbed her phone off the desk and fumbled for the speed dial, hitting the wrong buttons three times with her shaking thumb.

The line was busy and went straight to voicemail. She called again. Still busy. Was that the 'busy' sound or the 'this phone is off' sound? Did they have different sounds? They really should have different sounds for that. She went to the BBC news page on her laptop and felt even sicker at footage of the struggling rescue crews that fought to free themselves from collapsing rubble.

She tried again. And again.

"Dammit, Emily, answer your phone!" JJ yelled at the monotonous tone as it buzzed in her ear. She glared at the phone, realizing she was starting to cry again. She swiped the tears away angrily and forced herself to close her eyes and take a deep breathe. Then another. By the third she felt less like all her organs were going to explode out of her skin.

That was when she opened her eyes and realized there was a notification on her phone. She had a message.

_I don't know what's going on but I'm safe. Don't worry. I'll call you when I have some answers. Repeat: I am perfectly safe and will remain so. I promise._

JJ sniffed, reading the message twice before collapsing into her chair. JJ laughed. She was crying and she laughed because if she didn't she would sob. The message was time stamped an hour earlier. She'd been asleep. Emily had been thinking of her enough to send word in the middle of a crisis; just enough to make sure JJ wouldn't worry when the rest of the world awoke and found out what was happening. This had all happened while she was asleep and she could've awakened to a world that didn't have Emily Prentiss in it anywhere.

She was beginning to understand what Emily meant about fearing for her family. Now she wanted her friend to come home not just to protect her but so that JJ could keep_ her_ safe. If anything happened to Emiy . . . she would be lost forever.

* * *

_ I didn't want to invent JTF-12 completely so I borrowed names from other tv/movie media that had Interpol characters. Then I filled in the gaps with BBC TV. These are the sources for names on the team. Names only.  
_

_Lorna Campbell - Johnny English_

_Sean Cassidy – Banshee of X-men (he was Interpol once)_

_Mike Whittier – Hitman _

_Salinger – the International_

__Becca Fisher - Broadchurch__

__As before, I appreciate any and all feedback. Keeps me enthusiastic!__


	6. Confusion

_This is a pretty long chapter. Just warning._

* * *

**Chapter Six**

**Confusion**

Confusion is a word we have invented for an order which is not understood.

-Henry MIller

Emily stepped carefully through the rubble of the wrecked building.

Lorna had been right, the terrifying crisis had jammed the roads and it had taken almost 37 minutes to reach Mayfair. JTF-12 had quickly gone about finding their team mate, analyzing the situation and arguing vehemently for the rights to investigate. It had taken four of Emily's favors and the sheer unstoppable stubbornness of her Prentiss will to get permission to enter the crime scene. Even with that authority it took two hours for the fire teams to clear the area and the chief inspector hadn't even wanted medics going in. The building was compromised and could collapse at any moment, never mind the two taller structures on either side that had been engulfed in the inferno.

None of this had registered with Salinger. Before the team arrived he'd waded into the smoke with the other emergency personnel to haul away some of the injured civilians on the street before the disintegrating stonework could crush them. He was sure to be on the evening news of heroes and Interpol's list for mandatory Psych Eval. When Prentiss and the rest of JTF-12 arrived on the scene their first job was dragging Salinger to a safe distance and debriefing him as quietly as possible. Listening to him justify the suicidal heroics, Emily once again felt the tug of nostalgia beneath her ribs. _That's exactly what Morgan would've done._

Now, walking through the sad, settling ash with ears deafened by sirens and falling walls, Emily felt she'd wandered into a post-apocalyptic tomorrow. Bright red and yellow markings showed the fire inspector's initial deconstruction of the blast. White chalk on the floor matched the outlines on the street, bodies that had been gathered up and urgently carted away before the medical personnel added to the number of victims. The blackened interior was still crawling with fire men and forensics teams but everyone in safety gear and masks maintained the surreal atmosphere.

"Looks like hell broke loose." Mike commented through his mask, squatting next to the blast origin site.

"No. Hell would've been more efficient." Emily frowned, tracking the burn patterns along the wall.

"You're right. We got lucky," the chief fire inspector joined them with a sheaf of reports in his hand, "This place was wired with plastic explosive at strategic points of structural weakness. The method should've made the whole building implode and collapse on itself."

"So how did we get lucky?" Fisher's gloved finger traced along the wires that had been braided into the security lines.

"They didn't use enough materials. Looks like this method required a healthy amount of SEMTEX augmented with Diesel. You can see where they used the accelerant it intensified the blast pattern. They must've been cheap bastards though because they ran out."

"Of the accelerant?" Salinger (who was refusing orders to get a medical check) kept clapping at his ear, trying to get rid of the ringing.

"Seems like. They tried to finish the job with petrol. Doesn't exactly work the same."

"That's nearly 100° C difference in flash point!" Sean stared in horror at such a stupid substitution.

"Like I said, they bollixed it up. Which is good for us. If they'd used diesel this whole place would have turned to nothing but ash from the duration of the burn. Thanks to their mistake, the explosion blew out. Bad news, the fire spread to the neighboring buildings. Good news, we have more evidence intact for you here."

"Thank you, Inspector. Fisher, you and Mike work on finding the trigger mechanism for the explosion. Sean, get me the complete background on this building; business, owners and employees. We need to know why it was targeted. Lorna, you and I need to look at the victims." Emily moved towards the exit, itching to be out of the safety gear that made her feel like she was gradually suffocating.

"And me, boss?" Salinger followed after her, still tugging and rubbing at his ear.

"Medic checkup. Now." Emily pointed to the EMS teams. Even through goggles her glare had bite and Sally wisely obeyed the order.

* * *

"Thirteen dead. Two more are critical condition at the hospital. Of them all, ten definitely died of the blunt force trauma or shrapnel wounds I would expect from this sort of incident." The coroner walked around the gurneys. The dead had been assembled into an almost military line of attention on the side of the street, each under their own shroud as the medics and forensics teams moved among them.

"Only ten. What about the others?" Prentiss lifted the sheeting over one of the corpses, noting the crushed cranial bones and quickly chalking the victim up to the explosive part of the blast.

"There were three that definitely weren't killed in the bomb. Here," the coroner lifted one of the sheets and pointed to a female corpse with massive burn trauma over her whole body and partially caved cranial structure, "These injuries are all post-mortem. This is only a preliminary inspection, of course, but look at her throat."

"Looks like she got it cut open." Lorna's eyebrow twitched up slightly in surprise. What were the odds that sort of injury could happen in the middle of an explosion?

"How long has she been dead?" Emily pulled the sheet further down, noting that even under the scorch marks she could see needle scars on her arms.

"I can't tell you that without a complete autopsy. What I can say for sure is this: she was dead before the bomb. Same with these other two." The coroner led them over to the other two corpses that had been distanced from the bulk of the victims.

"Any cause of death evident on them?" Lorna used a pen to shift the covering back, her intense mysophobia rising to the surface.

"Not yet. As I said, we need time for an extensive forensic autopsy and evaluation. These two were closer to the blast origin and there's more tissue damage." The coroner shook his head, waggling the ginger bangs on his forehead.

"Is there enough to ID them?" Emily hadn't stopped staring at the dead woman. Something in the back of her mind was beginning to come to life and calculate. Her inner profiler was analyzing, comparing, cross-referencing and coming up with some very ugly assumptions. But they were only assumptions. For now.

"I can get DNA off the two males, it will take some time to process. The woman is intact enough that we should be able to run her dental records."

"Please do and let us know as soon as you find anything. Where were these bodies found?" Emily finally pulled the sheet back into place over the scorched corpse. Everything was starting to feel very wrong.

"These three were inside the building that originated the explosion. The next closest was the manager that had been in the process of opening the door and he was blown across the street."

"Boss! You better look at this!" Sean was running down the block towards them, waving a tablet. Emily quickly focused on the screen as he held it up and hit play, allowing the maximized volume to yell at everyone in the street. It didn't matter since no one could understand. It was all in Arabic. Emily's eyes widened as she listened.

"Where did that come from?" she quickly grabbed at the tablet to mute it.

"It's all over the web and getting distributed to the media outlets. They're taking credit for the attack. Some Islamic extremists?" Sean started to close the tablet but Emily prevented him, just keeping the volume low as she listened.

"The Saviour Sect. They haven't been active in the UK for a while." She murmured as she listened, translating in her head as the harsh rhetoric and threats barked from the tiny speaker. Far more interesting than the words this extremist speaker spouted was the video footage he had displaying behind him. Emily paused the video and rewound it, magnifying the screen. Over and over she watched what was obviously a home made video playing in the background.

"Did they really do it, though? Or is every terror and hate group in the area going to try to take credit for some fear?" Lorna swiped the hair from her face as she watched over Emily's shoulder, not quite seeing whatever it was her boss had focused on.

"No. It was them, look," Emily froze the screen and magnified again, "The video in the background: the men breaking in have security clearance. They had the codes. Sean, are there any surveillance cameras installed on this block?"

"None that have a view of the building. The only cameras that could've shown what happened were the internal security system and it looks like that got shut off at 9 pm last night." Sean tapped rapidly through the information on his screen.

"They must have someone on the inside then. Is CoLP going after this Saviour Sect?"

"Guns blazing. The Yard too." Lorna confirmed.

"Then we need to be looking at the bodies. This might be more personal than just random terror. I want –," Emily's orders were cut off by a loud rumbling sound like a giant in agony. Looking up, all three saw the target building beginning to crumble down on itself, walls collapsing inward in an avalanche of broken stone and twisted rebar.

"Dammit!" Prentiss went from standing to dead run in less than 3 seconds, racing for the falling entrance.

"Ma'am, you can't go in! It's not safe!" two firefighters tried to intercept her and she deftly slid through their grasp.

"I have people inside!' Emily shouted over her shoulder by way of apology as she leaped over a fallen timber into an interior shrouded in dust and ash smoke.

"Mike! Fisher!" Sean had been right behind Emily and even though she couldn't see him she could hear him moving deeper into the building, instinctively taking up her flank.

"Here!" a muffled voice called from the far corner, "The beams collapsed! Mike is pinned!"

"Hang on." Emily ordered calmly, making her way blind but certain towards the origin of the voice. She found Fisher hanging tightly onto Whittier's torso, probably having tried to pull him free but failing that she simply had refused to give him up to the wreckage.

"Sean! Over here!" Emily pulled her flashlight, signaling to her other team member. Cassidy was at her side in seconds, also evaluating the situation. Mike was caught under a fallen crossbeam. More stone and masonry was shattering down on them with every shudder of the building. The entire ceiling was seconds from collapse.

"When the next floor goes this whole place is toast." Fisher stated the mortal threat like it was any other fact in a case. Just one more variable to consider.

"You guys need to get out of here! Get Fisher out!" Mike was struggling, writhing beneath the beam and trying desperately to free himself from either it or Becca's iron grip on his chest. Prentiss searched the area and quickly found a twisted piece of heavy rebar. It would work.

"Shuttup, Whit. Stop moving so much. Becca, come to this side of me. You need to be ready to slide him out. Sean," Emily paused, trying to find her agent's eyes in the dim light, "We have this."

"I have the edge." Sean confirmed, bracing himself against the side of the fallen beam.

"Go!" Emily shouted. The moment Sean had lifted the beam high enough to create an inch of space Emily wedged the rebar into place, guaranteeing room for movement. She and Sean joined Fisher and all three wrenched Whittier free of the rubble. The movement of the beam seemed to have angered the suicidal building, the walls leaning in ever faster as it went into death throes. Fisher raced ahead with a flashlight, lighting their path back to the exit.

"I have him, boss. Go!" Sean swept up Mike's body and flung it over his shoulders. Prentiss didn't need to be told twice. She raced towards the disappearing light, her footfall echoed by Cassidy and both overwhelmed by the noise of fragmenting, falling concrete. She'd just about reached the door when a massive collapse brought the ceiling down behind them. Structural joints and timbers ripped free of the building and rained down.

Emily wasn't even sure how she'd ended up face down on the floor, inhaling ash and cement dust. The pounding in her head and ears wiped out all other noise but she could still feel the vibrations of the building around her. It was ready to go. It was already going. She scrambled to her feet and lunged towards the rapidly vanishing slice of light that was the doorway. She tumbled through and rolled to her feet, immediately looking back for Sean to be on her heels.

"Cassidy? Cassidy! Check in. Check in!" she demanded of her handset, wondering how her voice could sound so even when she was shaking from head to toe.

"We're out, boss. We got out." Sean replied, not over the handset but from a few feet away where he and Whittier had apparently rolled to safety before collapsing to the pavement. Emily sighed in relief, forcing her white-knuckled fingers to let go of the mic. Medics were already swarming her two agents, strapping Whittier to a stretcher to be taken to hospital and fussing Sean no matter how he tried to protest.

"Boss, we may have found something." Lorna's voice barely managed to pierce the throbbing noise of the pulse in her ears. Emily turned to face the younger agent, grateful that the woman masked any concern or worry and focused only on the job.

"Right. Show me." Emily nodded. She swiped the sweat from her forehead and only in passing noticed that the dampness she touched was blood. _JJ's going to kill me._ She smiled ever so briefly before returning her focus to the task at hand.

* * *

JJ was settling comfortably into the couch with her two favorite men. Will had one arm around her shoulders and Henry was curled halfway in her lap and half out, transfixed by the television. Not usually a big fan of TV or animated movies in particular, she'd found herself forcibly indoctrinated into all things Lightning McQueen simply because she'd given birth to a son. Henry squealed with joy every time the red car showed up in any TV show or marketing gimmick. _Talk about early conditioning. _ She sighed but ruffled her son's hair fondly.

She'd barely made it through the day as anything more than a zombie, checking news reports every few minutes for any additional information on the London attack. Everyone else at BAU had been in similar states of distraction as the news filtered in. Had there been more attacks? Did they know who did it? Was anyone else at risk? It was only against deep reluctance that Will coaxed her away from the news bulletins on her laptop to have some family time that evening.

The animated red car was obviously about to learn an important lesson when JJ's phone rang. Not any phone. THE phone. She bolted off the sofa, bringing complaints from both boys. She quickly snatched up the nondescript burner, casting woefully apologetic glances to them both before fleeing the room.

"Blackbird." She spoke the usual greeting with choking anxiety.

"It's me. Sorry to make you wait all day, it's been a rough one." Emily's voice came back to her, tired but obviously safe. JJ sank into her office chair, resting her forehead in her hand in a posture that married prayer to relief.

"I'm just glad you're safe. Can I see you?" she hated that her voice was trembling slightly. They were trained government crime fighters, dammit! She was tougher than this!

"You may not want to . . ." Emily hedged and JJ instinctively knew something bad had happened.

"The hell I don't." JJ growled and thumbed open her video call app. It took only a few seconds for the interface to connect and ring to Lucky. Then there were several rings. _You'd better answer me, Em, or you'll never hear the end of it._

Apparently sensing the danger, Prentiss activated her phone camera and JJ's screen filled with the image of her dearest friend. She looked haggard, distressed and most importantly –

"You got hurt!" JJ yelped, starting to rise to her feet before remembering that wouldn't make a difference over camera phone. Emily nervously touched the bandage over her left eye.

"Just another head injury. That's my signature, right?" she joked, trying to coax a smile out of JJ but the blonde profiler was having none of it.

"What happened, Emily?" JJ demanded. She didn't mean the head wound. That was fairly typical anymore. The number of times JJ had seen bandages on Prentiss' head. . . She actually believed that it was because the woman was so hard-headed she used it as a weapon.

"Something weird has been happening, JJ. The news has part of the story; it is terrorists, but there's something going on besides that." Emily sighed, running her fingers through her hair in the mannerism JJ had always come to associate with frustrated vulnerability. Emily seldom allowed anyone to see just how hurt or upset she could be by a case. That single gesture was the neon sign that broadcast her distress in a minimal movement.

"Tell me." JJ leaned forward. Sure, she spent all day everyday profiling criminals for her own job. Ordinarily, the last thing she would want to do would be to let them into her private time. This was different. This was where her world overlapped with Emily's and time zones really couldn't matter because some things –like evil – were universal.

Emily began to explain what the local law enforcement had found and the extrapolations her team had made. Or, more accurately, the questions and inconsistencies they'd found to ponder. The targeted building was an art gallery owned by a Sunni couple. It shouldn't even have been opened that day because it was a holy day. The manager happened to come in to retrieve a bid on some restoration work. The explosives were wired to the security system; the manager's code was the trigger – more proof that the business was being specifically targeted.

"How did they get the codes?" JJ wondered out loud, not realizing she'd interrupted Emily.

"That's one of the questions. They not only knew the manager's code but had security clearance to get in the night before. Even the cameras were shut off for the whole night. Either they had help from the inside or from a dangerously talented hacker."

"Garcia would love this one." Jareau smirked, knowing Penelope would ransack the computer systems of the building and pretty much make all the records her bitch until she got answers.

"I wish I had her. But as bad as the security compromise seems to be that's not the real problem." Emily's voice had the distant sound she always got when problems were too big and real to be considered from within this world. She had a way of removing herself, keeping a distance in order to have real perspective.

"What is?" JJ hoped her voice could reach to the remote frontier where Emily's mind currently dwelled.

"The bodies; three of them. They weren't supposed to be there. Dental on the woman came back and she's a runaway from Luton, disappeared 6 years ago and has multiple arrests for soliciting and possession. Why would someone like that be in a high end gallery overnight?" Emily was massaging the temple of her forehead, assuaging the pain of her thoughts.

"You're right, what about the other two?" JJ ignored the rhetorical question. They couldn't understand the girl's place at the site until they knew more about the other victims. 'Work the victimology,' echoed in her head in Gideon's voice.

"Waiting on DNA to come back. All three were found _inside_ the building. Except there's no way they could've broken in earlier because the whole building was wired to explode the minute anyone entered a code for access. The corpses had to have been left behind."

"By the terrorists or by someone else who knew the building would be attacked?" JJ voiced the next logical question.

"I don't know, JJ. This one is . . .it's weird. The bombing is textbook terror, albeit the technology aspects are more refined than usual. But these corpses left at the scene . . ."

"Could they be targets of the terrorists? Some kind of message?" JJ posited, looking at the simplest explanation first but already doubtful. It was never that easy. The only time violence was simple was when it was completely insane; then it didn't have to make sense to happen.

"It's possible," Em agreed, her tone suggesting she'd been entertaining that option for some time without conviction, "It just doesn't fit with any of the pattern of terrorist attacks. They wouldn't care about a prostitute unless she had a personal connection to them."

"You did say it's a group trying to force Sunni's back to traditional values. Maybe she's a symbol of the decaying morals of the city? Or temptation facing true believers?"

"It could be closer to home than that. Maybe the gallery owner had hired her? That would make the murder and the bombing a direct message to him." Emily pushed her hair out of her face again. Even when she was saying one thing her mannerisms betrayed conflicting thoughts. This theory wasn't sitting right and JJ didn't know why but she got the same feeling.

"What do your instincts say, Em?" JJ knew Prentiss had trouble trusting her gut, even though those impulses had always been right on point. She wasn't a woman given easily to trust; not of others and not even of herself.

"This is two crimes. The terror attack is bad but it's not the real crime. The real problem is whoever left those bodies in the gallery. This UnSub found the perfect way to mask his crime. If it weren't for the accelerant mistake we might never have even noticed."

"So, what do you do now?" JJ leaned back in her chair, keeping the phone in her hand to maintain an intimate perspective. She could tell Emily was relaxing as she accepted more and more of the truth of the situation. Horrible as it was, it was more manageable once you admitted there was a monster.

"Get the DNA on the bodies. Track the girl's movements. Find any similar crimes. The usual, of course."

"Does the usual include our plans for this Saturday?" JJ cocked an eyebrow with deliberate tease. They'd had the date scheduled for a month.

"I wouldn't say those are 'usual' but yes, I have the afternoon blocked out on my calendar." Emily agreed with the warm, wide smile that always made Jareau feel like she was turning to warm pudding inside.

"What time is it over there anyway?" the blonde glanced at the clock, knowing she could do the calculation in her head but preferring to ask.

"Pushing 0130. I didn't get out of the office til eleven. Did I interrupt your evening?"

"Not at all. I was just trying to figure out why you still looked so fascinatingly professional after such a day."

"Fascinating, huh? You're one to talk. Just what are you wearing?"

* * *

Will glanced at his wristwatch and realized it was well past 8pm. Henry had fallen asleep curled into the warm spot on the couch left by his mother. The way JJ had leapt from the sofa announced it had to have been urgent but no work calls ever lasted this long.

Easing himself off the couch he padded down the hallway towards JJ's office and stopped as he heard her laugh. It wasn't the full-throated, rejoice-in-life sound that was her typical laugh. This was a soft, throaty chuckle laden with unspoken thoughts and it made him shiver.

"Wouldn't you like to know." JJ teased to her video caller.

"I would. You see, I'm still in my black slacks and stiletto boots and I'm dying to get out of them." Emily replied with a purr.

"That's your own fault," JJ swallowed briefly, "I slid into sweats and a T-shirt as soon as I was home. You're just a masochist."

"Hmmm," Emily didn't argue the accusation, "What T is that anyway? Doesn't look like FBI to me."

"It isn't, like you don't know."

"I don't!" Emily protested with false innocence.

"You'll just have to take a closer look!" JJ rose from her chair and pulled the shirt taught so the type could be read, earning a laughing response from the phone.

Will listened from the hall as the laughter faded. He hadn't noticed which shirt JJ was wearing. He certainly hadn't known that it was one she and Emily and Garcia had earned at a local bar by winning a Trivia drinking challenge. Apparently all three had fried a fair number of brain cells in the name of free T-shirts.

JJ's happy, rolling laugh jerked him out of his musings. If he tilted his head ever so slightly he could see into the office and observe her curled up in her office chair, gazing affectionately at the upright phone. The screen was too small to discern Prentiss from this far but Will was certain she was grinning as widely as his wife.

A coil of anger turned momentarily in his stomach. She left him and Henry to talk to a woman thousands of miles away? A woman who wasn't even part of her life? Instantly, shame pushed the angry thoughts away. _They were best friends before I even came along. Emily saved JJ. She's been good to her and that means she was good to me._ He sighed, running both hands over his face to wipe away the thoughts.

"You're amazing, you know that, right?" JJ's tender endearment almost brought him back to stare through the door but he forced himself to draw back. He went to the couch and scooped Henry into his arms.

"Nmmm. Mommy?" the tiny blonde boy murmured into his neck.

"She'll be up to kiss you goodnight. Soon, son." Will answered back.

Once Henry was put to bed Will went through his own evening rituals trying not to think about the conversation going on below him. JJ shared so much with Emily. She always had but after the – he hesitated, spitting toothpaste into the sink and feeling sick – after the _incident_ with Hastings she'd started sharing more and more with her international ally and less with him. At first he'd been jealous, trying to demand JJ open up and share with him but that had only driven her further away. At least she had been talking to _someone._ He couldn't pretend that it didn't hurt; her preference to talk to someone besides him. But he also couldn't deny that Emily had been a life saver. She'd been crucial to keeping JJ safe and sane and happy. If that was what JJ needed, he sure as hell wasn't going to take it away.

Laying down in the cool bed sheets he stilled his breathing and listened for the muffled conversation from the floor below.

"I'm sorry it's been so rough but you're the best one for the case. You'll have this unraveled in no time . . .I am not being partial! . . .Tomorrow morning sounds good. I have a lovely new tea to try . . .Oh, just from a friend who knows me,"

The coy, teasing familiarity would've had his fists clenching if he didn't understand the friendship the women shared. Except, did he really understand it? _It's Emily. She's been on your side since day one. Couldn't ask for a better friend for either of us._

"Sleep well too. Please be safe."

Then everything was silent until he could make out the soft padding of JJ's feet coming up the stairs. A brief pause as she stopped to kiss Henry good night and then came to their room. She quickly went through her evening ablutions before crawling into bed. She didn't cross to his side of the bed, choosing instead to lay with her back to him after she shut off the light. Unable to bear the distance, Will rolled over and wrapped an arm around her waist.

"Good chat?" he asked quietly.

"Yeah, it was. Sorry, Will, I didn't mean to leave you guys but you know how it is with the time difference and then the news today –," she might've rambled on with several more excuses but Will squeezed his arm around her, silencing the babble.

"I know, chère. I understand. She's lucky to have you." Will murmured into her ear, already fading towards sleep. The feel of JJ in his arms and the scent of her hair was always enough to send him rapidly off to his dreams. JJ smiled, brushing her fingers over his wrist absently.

"We both are." She admitted. Later, in dreams, Will found himself hearing the sentence over and over again; different each time. We both are. We both. We. _Me and JJ?_ He tossed some in his sleep. _Or JJ and Emily?_


	7. Clues

_A quick request: a 'guest' reviewer had some interesting insights about Will's perspective in the relationship. Could that person please PM me? I'd like to explore the idea further in order to keep the story realistic._

* * *

**Chapter Seven**

**Clues**

Life was so full of things happening erratically in all directions that the chances of any of them making some kind of relevant sense were remote in the extreme.

-Terry Pratchett

Emily stared at the case board; information, details and clues cluttering the surface in an almost incoherent arrangement. She was leaning against Sean's desk since it was closest to the mass work zone. Somewhere in all that confusion of report and evidence was a key.

The days following the Mayfair bombing were tense as everyone waited for a second incident to declare they were under attack. Every day as nothing else happened- no other buildings exploded and no videos appeared online threatening all of western civilization – the tension began to dissipate. She'd been able to give her team their weekend instead of having to push into overtime. The fact that it allowed her to keep her plans with JJ was pure coincidence. Really.

_"__This is definitely the best exhibit they've done."_ _JJ's voice in Emily's earpiece was beyond enthusiastic._

_"__Of course it is; it's the Turner Prize and exhibition." Prentiss smiled and spoke softly, just loud enough for the hands-free mic to pick up. Art museums and enthusiasts tended to get annoyed by cell phone conversations disrupting the meditative silence of their sanctuary. _

_"__Wait! Turn back. I want to see that canvas on your left." JJ ordered and Emily was certain she could hear the crunch of a Cheeto. Will had a weekend shift and Henry was at a sleep over. JJ had nothing to do all day but force her surrogate to give her a first class tour of one of the world's finest art collections._

_"__You know, you could just come out here and see it for yourself." The brunette sighed but obediently turned back to a painting she'd passed by too quickly. The color was almost overwhelming and she had to back away to see the entire image. She'd never had much fondness for modern art, despite what everyone assumed from her minimalist approach to décor. _

_"__No, I can't. We agreed about that early on, remember? 'No obvious social contact.'" The teasing words had a pained bite. A melancholic anger twisted Emily's gut momentarily. Sometimes the decisions they'd made for safety felt like self-imposed punishment. _

_"__I meant you could fly out here and tour the museum. You wouldn't have to see me. No one would make a connection off that." She argued, already knowing there was no way in hell JJ would fly across the ocean and NOT immediately glue herself to her best friend. It was the same reason Emily hadn't visited back to the USA either, despite her mother's incessant nagging and manipulation. She knew she couldn't set foot back on the same continent as JJ without wanting to simply set up camp in the other woman's personal space and never leave. '_Damn. I need more friends.'

_"__I don't want to see it by myself! I want to see it with you and this way I can." JJ pointed out happily. _

_'_Who am I kidding? I could have a hundred friends and still there would be only one JJ.'

_"__Which must be costing both of us a fortune for the data stream." Emily teased to hide her own echo of the sentiment. The Google Glasses had been expensive enough but live streaming the video as she toured Tate Modern ate up her pre-purchased data like Rossi slurping pasta. Still, she had to admit that their once a month excursions to the many museums of London had taught Prentiss how little she knew of art. And how eclectic JJ's taste was._

_"__So worth every penny, now go back to that room with the videos and be quiet, I want to hear what's being said." JJ commanded and Emily could hear her smiling._

Prentiss always felt a little more disassociated after days like that. After spending so many hours with JJ in her ear - walking through London with the woman literally in her head – it felt like she was severing a limb when the day finally ended and she had to take off the glasses and ear piece. Small wonder that this Monday morning she was having trouble bringing her focus to bear on the evidence arranged in front of her.

They'd dug up all available information on the bombed gallery. The Pachachi family that owned it were indeed Sunni and could easily have been targets. Questioning Mr. Pachachi, however, yielded absolutely no connection to Elisabeth Sutton, the runaway turned prostitute found dead at the scene.

The more evidence they gathered the more confusing the case became. One of the men had been identified as Todd Louis, one of the gallery's appraisers. He had every right to be in the gallery but the security records showed he hadn't used his code to enter the building since leaving with everyone else the day before. He couldn't be the inside man unless he also happened to be one hell of a hacker. The other man was Malcolm Carver, a GQ listed top performer in the business world. CEO of a financial investment firm Carver's net worth was well over 7 figures and the company looked ready to announce a major merger. He had bodyguards with him at all major social events yet somehow went missing from a charity event at Sotheby's.

"Looks like a bloody Chinese menu. One from columns A, B and C." Mike commented as he limped up to stand beside Prentiss. The fallen beam had left him with a broken tibia and shattered ankle as well as fractures in his ribs. Once he'd gotten the cast and crutches at the hospital he'd adamantly demanded release. It was all Emily could do to keep him out of the office until today.

"High risk, medium risk and low risk," Emily agreed but then shook her head, realizing that wasn't quite right, "More like high risk, low risk and _extreme_ risk. Carver would normally be an impossible target. The Sect couldn't have been specifically going after him; it would take weeks of following him to get a chance opportunity like what happened the night he disappeared."

"Right, not even his own wife knew he was still smoking. She thought he was popping out to use the loo." Becca agreed. She'd been the one to interview the Carver family and business associates.

"But his business was in Mayfair and so was Sotheby's, where he was that night. A victim of opportunity? That seems like extremely high risk behavior for an UnSub who's been pretty cautious up to that point." Sean countered.

"The geography is the most important factor so far. The UnSub knew the building he wanted to use, knew he could hack the system to get in and targeted an employee from the business as well as a pro known to work streets in the area." Emily ticked off the connecting points on her fingers.

"He also knew the building was going to be bombed. That was his clean-up strategy. So either he's part of the terror cell or had ears on the chatter for their plan." Sean added.

"We're positive this isn't just coincidence, right? Could the UnSub have _wanted_ the bodies to be found in the gallery and the bombing just happened to screw up his whole agenda?" Becca bit at her thumbnail. Emily noticed the nervous habit and silently thanked JJ once again for having broken her of that particular tell.

"Two separate violent crimes taking place in the same building in the same 12 hours? Even if they don't know each other, these two criminal sets are _definitely_ the security compromise if nothing else." Emily tapped the printout of code that showed the security system being accessed and shut down.

"Boss! Boss!" Lorna came racing into the office with Ellie their tech analyst right on her heels but skidded to a halt on seeing everyone, "Sorry. Prentiss, you have to hear this."

"You found something, Miller?" Emily looked over Campbell's shoulder to the usually reticent Ellie. The woman was shyly hanging back, nervous to even enter the bullpen area of the office space. Emily had privately diagnosed her with mild agoraphobia given how seldom she dared to leave her office. She was like Garcia's sad opposite, so small and quiet and unobtrusive that even if people were demanded to notice her they wouldn't be able to. Lorna stepped aside and pushed Ellie forward.

"You, uhm, you asked, uhm," Ellie was a genius with computers but her people skills made Reid look charismatic by comparison, "T-t-the, uh, the –,"

"Put it on the screen, Ellie." Emily gently suggested, allowing the woman to escape back to her comfort zone. Someday they would work on her communication. Not today.

Ellie gratefully whipped her tablet out and began displaying files on the massive screen that stood above the evidence board. Emily momentarily appreciated the juxtaposition of digital and analog but found her attention immediately riveted to the images Ellie had found. Bomb wreckage. Destroyed buildings that had collapsed on themselves. Victims in the street mangled by fire and shrapnel and the chalk outlines marking each corpse set a familiar pattern. Outside, on the streets there could be anywhere from 1 to 20 people killed in the explosion but the internal scene? Over and over she scanned the pictures and saw the same thing.

"Corpses in a locked building," Lorna spoke the conclusion everyone had already reached, "We did the search you asked for – terrorist attacks that match our criteria. These twelve come from all across Europe. Each was found to be an explosion triggered by an employee disabling the security system at the beginning of the business day. The surveillance systems had all been disabled for 12 hours prior. Of the twelve crime scenes? Seven can confirm there were exactly three bodies inside when the bomb went off."

"How did we not hear about this?" Emily worked to keep the anger from her voice as she stared at the carnage strewn across the screen. Running quick calculations in her head she arrived at 114 people collectively killed in the attacks. How was this not on their radar?

"Each, each, each uhm," Ellie was trying again, even harder than usual, "D-d-different uhm, they were, Ngh," she pounded a balled up fist into her leg, "Each different!"

Knowing that was all she'd be able to communicate verbally she tapped several more rapid commands into her tablet and the screen broke into 12 smaller sections. Each contained either a video or a document and it didn't take long for the JTF-12 to see the recurring theme. Manifestos. In video and print form each of the attacks was being claimed by a different terrorist or hate group as a platform for rhetoric and further threats.

"No one ever connected them because they were all different criminal groups." Sean stared, his jaw hanging.

"We never would have if someone hadn't made a mistake." Emily felt like the world was falling away from her. All she could see was the screen of extremist maniacs spouting venom and pride and hate. She saw the destroyed buildings and terrified populace and inevitable harm to economies and people's basic sense of security. But more than any of that; she saw behind all of it a twisted, opportunistic, calculating mind. A parasitic predator that was capitalizing on both the fear and hate of others to satisfy his own sick needs.

Twelve possible cases, seven for sure. Plus their own here in London. If the pattern held then the UnSub had at least 24 victims. Maybe as high as 39. _He's been at this a long time._ Emily felt bile roll in her stomach. She had a feeling the total was going to end up being even higher than that. She'd never wanted to be back with the BAU more than now.

* * *

"Then Reid points out that the guy has been unconsciously tapping out the same piece of classical music that was playing at the crime scene and Rossi knows we can nail him. He went in and started tapping a conflicting melody, louder and faster than our UnSub. Kate is still peppering him with questions and Morgan and Reid start arguing in the background and you can guess what happened." JJ was still laughing as she told the story. She wasn't sure an interrogation room had ever had that much noise going on.

"Suddenly he can't hear the music in his head anymore. Without the defense mechanism he snaps?" Emily smiled as well, enjoying the midday escape from the realities of her job and life. Food had lost all interest but she was religious about her lunch break just so she could get these few minutes of sanity.

"Like a stressed turtle. He went on a 20 minute rant confessing to all the crimes. You know the best part? When the team came out Kate looks at Rossi and says 'I didn't expect you to be a Katy Perry fan.'"

"What?"

"Exactly! And Dave just replies 'I'm not but I knew he'd hate it,' with his usual smug little grin. Kate waits until he's gone, looks at me and points out that Rossi had to be _awfully_ familiar with 'Firework' because he'd been quietly humming it as well."

"Our Rossi? The quintessentially authentic Italian? Humming Katy Perry?!" Emily laughed as she tried to picture the bearded man bobbing his head in time to an anthem for 15 year old girls.

"Reid thinks he saw him mouth some of the words. Just when you thought you'd profiled someone completely!" JJ agreed.

A loud knock on the door barely preceded Fisher bursting into her office. Emily twitched up a single curious and slightly annoyed eyebrow.

"I have to go, something just came up." Prentiss let her professional armor slide back into place and hung up the phone, turning to the obviously urgent intrusion.

"Another bomb. Belfast. They caught one of the guys." Becca announced breathlessly.

"I want to talk to the locals that caught him. Get me everything they know." Emily was out the door instantly. They'd been slaving on this case for a week and this was their first major break. Why was it that only more crimes could give them clues?

On the phone with the PSNI inspector Emily quickly discovered they'd gotten lucky again. A splinter cell of the IRA had decided to blow up an evidence storage facility but hadn't counted on the swiftness of police response. Most got away but it hardly mattered because the one they caught was giving up information as fast as he could think of it. It was taking a while though since he wasn't one of the world's foremost thinkers.

"Dumb sod still had the instructions on him. All written and methodical too, mind you. Codes for bypassing security to enter the building, which entrance to use at what time, where to place the explosive and how to wire it in. This one little piece of paper is a complete Terror Attack for Dummies."The thickly accented voice was almost indecipherable as it curled around each syllable from the speakerphone. Emily glanced up at the team, relieved to see most of them struggling as well.

"Meticulous instructions wouldn't be unusual with a setup this complex." Prentiss mused aloud, wondering if the other men who'd escaped carried similar pieces of paper. The important question was _who_ gave them the information. The Irishman on the other end of the phone must have been reading her mind.

"There's where it's interesting. He swears up and down that none of his mates stole the information. Says they paid for it fair."

"Paid for it?" the only possible thing worse than a hacker working for a terrorist group was one subcontracting.

"Bought it off an online info merchant. Says he's called The Broker. Our lad knows nothing beyond that, just says they handed over £5,000 and got their little 'How To' manual in exchange. One stop shopping for any group of criminal bastards too lazy or stupid to do their own thinking."

"Ellie," Emily briefly muted the phone, "Find me everything on The Broker. Facts, fiction, gossip; I don't care what it is, I want all of it."

The tiny woman nodded so hard her glasses nearly fell off before bolting from the room.

"£5,000 for that amount of info? Seems awfully cheap considering the scale of damage." Salinger shook his head.

"The codes, the strategy, the method? Only reason to sell so cheap would be if he _needs_ that building blown up." Cassidy agreed.

"Because he knows there's evidence inside that needs to be destroyed," Emily continued the line of thought and turned back to the phone, "Inspector, does your suspect remember seeing anything unusual inside the storage locker?"

"Agent, he's already pissed himself. He's so scared he doesn't hardly remember his own name." the man sounded half amused, half angry that someone had to clean up a mess.

"We're investigating a string of bombings where bodies were left at the site before the explosion. I need to know if this fits the pattern."

"I'll get my lads on it to see what they can find. Don't know if much can be sifted out of that mess of ash and rubble but we'll work it double time."

"Thank you, Inspector. As soon as we have some concrete findings we'll send them to you." Emily disconnected the call and then leveled her gaze at her team. Everyone looked worried.

"The last confirmed bombing before London was Switzerland. It was 2 months ago. Now it's only a week between blasts? This is either a pattern we don't recognize or a massive escalation." Fisher was making notes on a timeline.

"A mysterious online information source. Could that be the hacker we're looking for? Someone had to have stolen all the codes for the buildings and shut off the cameras." Lorna wrote the handle 'Broker' on the evidence board amidst the other facts and questions.

"If it is he'll be under deep cover. It could take days to trace him across the dark net." Cassidy sighed, settling into his desk to begin sorting the pages of his file.

"Ha!" the sudden noise startled everyone. Ellie was tearing back up from her office, waving her tablet triumphantly. She rapidly hit commands, streaming data to everyone's computers and the main screen simultaneously. Emily watched the lines of code scrolling frantically up the screen, a bizarre language of genius and mania that she couldn't follow at all. There were times she wondered if even Penelope could make sense of Ellie's insane communications.

The programming code began to filter down, reducing towards some inevitable grain of information. A final line of numbers scrolled across the screen before everything collapsed and went dark.

"Ellie, honey, what was that?" Whittier gently asked the resident volatile brainiac.

"The Broker." Ellie replied, the first complete sentence Emily had ever heard her speak without a stutter or hesitation.

"You found him? Already?" Prentiss had to admit she was impressed. That was an almost Garcia-esque bit of cybernetic magic.

"He w-w-w-w- Hmm," Ellie sealed her lips in annoyance and finally opted for the shortcut around all her social impediments. The large display screen lit up with text as she typed into her tablet.

'He wasn't trying to hide. He's darknet but advertises service on multiple forums.'

"So he doesn't think he needs to hide. He's confident he won't be connected to the crimes." Lorna drew the obvious conclusion. They'd all seen sociopaths that were so arrogant they thought they'd never be caught. They'd also seen psychopaths that truly believed they hadn't done anything wrong.

"Good work, Ellie. Now, I need some more magic. We need to know every group he has sold information to. We also need his location. If he's the UnSub we might be able to catch him before he moves to the next target city." Emily's heart sank as she saw Ellie violently shake her head. There was already a problem.

'He's not in Europe. Routes through global IP's but traced all the way back? He's there.' The words vanished into a world map that then zoomed in to focus on a single country. Emily felt a bubble of ironic laughter threatening to escape her throat. _Of course._ Of course that's where he would be.

"Anything more specific?" she carefully modulated her voice to match her poker-faced expression.

'No. Can't tell any more from here. To get his specific location we have to be in his backyard.'

"Well we can hardly jump a jet and show up, can we?" Fisher rolled her eyes.

"Why not?" Sean demanded in confusion. They knew where The Broker was so that was where they needed to go.

"Jurisdiction, Cassidy. Ever heard of it? We're in for a mother of a nightmare with this." Lorna took Becca's side.

Emily stared at the screen, mesmerized by the sudden twist this case had taken. The noise of her team arguing amongst themselves like children deciding on pizza toppings barely penetrated her spinning thoughts.

"We've collaborated on plenty of cases. I'd think they would _want_ to know they have a criminal aiding terrorists right on their doorstep." Salinger was more inclined to Cassidy's view. Both preferred to run in with guns blazing and worry about the paperwork later.

"Sure, they'd love to _know._ They aren't going to let us just show up and work it. Their red tape and procedure is just as bad as ours. Between two lumbering bureaucracies it'll be a miracle if we aren't all in retirement by the time someone gets permission to find this guy." Fisher shot right back.

"We aren't going to ask for permission," Emily suddenly announced, drawing everyone's attention, "_We_ aren't going to do anything."

"Boss –," Salinger started to protest. The whole team knew their leader seldom spoke of her past and that this was going to trample over some very tender ground emotionally for her. It was the very silences she kept that told them all how loud some memories were.

"_I_ am going to ask for help. We only stumbled onto this guy because of mistakes he's made so far, right?" she looked around and saw the reluctant nods, "Well, his biggest screw up is being in the United States; the BAU's turf. If anyone can catch him, it's them and we're going to do everything we can to make that happen."

She put the team to work gathering all the information the BAU would need for a complete case file, subconsciously remembering what JJ and Hotch had always looked for in the files that came to their desks. Once the team had obediently dispersed like industrious mice, she turned back to the world map flickering on the giant screen. The glowing country was both a neon road sign and a glaring warning. No matter how hard she'd tried to keep her work, her life, her _self_ away from her old home she now felt like she was surrendering to the inevitable. At last.


	8. Far Away

**Chapter Eight**

**Far Away**

"I imagine a line, a white line, painted on the sand and on the ocean, from me to you."  
― Jonathan Safran Foer

Garcia happily strolled off the elevator on Morgan's arm, giggling at yet another completely inappropriate comment.

"Ever the gentleman, aren't you, Derek?" JJ teased as she crossed their path, mug of piping hot coffee in hand.

"You wouldn't say that if you heard what he just said." Garcia shot back.

"Something about marshmallow cream and double joints," Reid offered, having been just behind them, "Which is actually a misnomer; the joints aren't doubled but actually just hypermobile because of stretched ligaments. The added flexibility is actually not much of a bonus when you factor in the compromised stability of the –,"

"Reid! It's ok. It was just a joke." Morgan held up a staying hand. Reid's mouth hung open for half a second while his brain processed the new order. He always looked so confused in those moments, a brief glimpse of genius confronting the impossible puzzle: other people.

"Don't worry, Spence. It's probably for the best that we not know. Don't we witness enough horrors around this place?" JJ took pity on the doctor, rescuing him from the conversation.

"Five minutes with my hunk of chocolate wonder would erase every bad thought in your mind." Penelope winked, stroking the dark agent's bicep as suggestively as ever.

"And put us in therapy for years to come." Kate countered from her desk.

"Everyone in the conference room. Now, please." Hotch came out of his office with the walk that Garcia thought of as his death march. He only moved with that speed and determination when someone had either been killed or was about to be.

"You decided on a case?" Penelope quickly caught up to Hotchner. She'd had five different files pending review by the team and wondered if one was more urgent than she thought.

"No, this came directly to me." Aaron shook his head, offering no further explanation.

Pushing the hint of confusion and injury to the side (sure, Hotch always ultimately picked the case but he'd been trusting her judgment for years now) Garcia sat down. To distract herself she watched JJ checking her phone. . .and then checking her _other_ phone. She was subtle about it but Penelope (knowing the secret) knew to watch for the slide of hand trick that swapped the devices in her pocket. She also caught the quirk of smile that never graced JJ's face when dealing with her normal phone communications.

"She's been much more like herself lately," Reid spoke quietly from beside the tech analyst, "Did you find out what was wrong?"

"Nope." Penelope answered honestly. She made it a practice to not lie so instead she found a natural ability for bending the truth. She hadn't ever found out exactly what caused JJ and Emily's falling out and subsequent depression but there could be no doubt they'd made amends and their beloved blonde was happier than ever.

"Really?" Reid looked at her in surprise. It wasn't like Garcia to leave a mystery untouched.

"Really. Honestly, sweet cheeks, there are some things even I won't mess with." She admitted, knowing that whatever mystery lay behind Door Number 3 in JJ and Emily's odd relationship was one she couldn't open.

"All right, files are coming through to your tablets but right now I need your eyes here," Hotchner stood in front of their display screen as a panel of ID's appeared, "These eleven people are the first positively identified murder victims in what is believed to be a much larger pattern. Conservative estimates put the total at well over two dozen but matching the remains to records is proving problematic."

"Why?" Morgan had a habit of playing with a pen during briefings; the more interested he was the more he toyed with the instrument.

"They've been burned." Reid had been scanning the data on his tablet, quickly absorbing the coroner reports.

"Alive?" Kate didn't sound as horrified by the thought as Garcia felt.

"Post-mortem. Exact causes of death vary and on several are impossible to determine."

"Hotch, these bodies weren't just burned. They have shattered and crushed bones, severed limbs; that's pretty extensive damage that couldn't be just from a fire." Rossi joined in, also reviewing pictures that Garcia was _insanely_ happy she couldn't see. _La la la, I don't need severed anything in my head!_

"They were blown up." JJ reached the conclusion a split second before Reid. The doctor looked at her in surprise but JJ didn't even acknowledge the attention; her brow was furrowed as she concentrated on the file with more than the usual intensity. _She looks like she's taking it personally. Does she know a victim?_ Despite her aversion to all things icky Garcia looked at her own Ipad, thumbing through the pages rapidly. She quickly noticed a single glaring fact.

"Hotch, I haven't heard anything about people getting blown up. Where is this coming from?" Rossi apparently hadn't gotten to the same page as Penelope. Should she speak up? If Hotch wasn't saying anything maybe there was a reason?

"A foreign agency thinks their UnSub or his accomplice may be here in the US. They've asked for our assistance." The answer was classic Hotch: a truthful answer that gave them no extra information.

"One UnSub? These bodies are strewn across 7 countries." Reid finally pointed out the elephant in the data. Garcia let out a breath of relief. Everything sounded better coming from Spencer because no one ever dared to argue with a human encyclopedia.

"Actually, they believe the same UnSub to have struck in 14 countries but these are the only ones where they've been able to make ID's." Hotch paused, watching the team as the facts sank in. They'd worked foreign cases before but no one had ever come up with an international profile. Crossing cultural lines blurred the markers.

"They're sure it's all one guy? Not a team? Or some psychos swapping tips?" Morgan voiced the obvious doubt.

"Everything is possible. I don't want to base our conclusions on assumptions other investigators have made. We have fresh eyes, what do we see?" Hotch sat down now and began studying the data with everyone else.

"The victims are all in capital cities or powerhouse economies. He's following money." Kate offered the first observation.

"Traveling Europe isn't cheap, he either has private resources or a job that moves him around." Hotch agreed; money was definitely going to be a factor.

"It looks like he may have gone months between some of these attacks. He's either got a schedule that keeps him from killing regularly or an unpredictable stressor." Derek pointed out.

"Or he's targeting each of these victims specifically and waiting to arrange the kill perfectly – these three were all killed in one night. That shows a high level of organization. He could be very patient." Spencer countered with another option.

"The victimology is all over the board, five are hookers, four are ordinary middle class workers and two are VIPs. A CEO and a record producer? What do any of them have in common?" Rossi waved his hand in universal Italian for helplessness.

JJ had been silent for some time, just staring at her screen like it was a stubborn child withholding answers. She must've had a lot of practice with Henry.

"If we can't nail down victimology, what about method? Says here that all of the hookers' skeletons showed knife marks on their ribs; they were stabbed." Hotch continued to push them. No point in dwelling on what they didn't know.

"But the other victims didn't have any indication of knife wounds. Not that you could tell much off these charred remains." Derek shook his head.

"So the kill method is fluid as well as his geography and victim pool." Kate summarized. They were all beginning to feel like they were squeezing Jell-o.

"But the disposal is not," Reid pointed out, holding up a finger the way he might in class when he had an answer, "Each body was found to have traces of diesel accelerant on the remains and the explosions are all confirmed as uses of SEMTEX plastic explosive."

At that final fact JJ's head snapped up like she'd been slapped. For a second she was staring at nothing but space and then whipped to face Hotchner.

"Hotch, what agency brought us this case?" she demanded in the tone of a person who already knows the answer and will not tolerate any evasion. It was one of the very rare instances of her 'do not screw with me' voice.

"Interpol." Hotch identified the foreign organization easily, eyes firmly meeting all of JJ's scrutiny. Everyone at the table watched them, completely bewildered by their silent conversation but mesmerized by the meeting of wills.

"Actually, that isn't official yet." The gentle voice broke the room's tension and brought all attention to rivet on the doorway. There was a split second of total silence as every brain in the room had to wrap around a startling new fact.

"Emmy!" Garcia was out of her chair like a purple rocket trailing sparkles, engulfing Prentiss in a massive hug before anyone else could even get close. Emily just laughed, returning the hug. She managed to get one hand free to shake with Rossi and Hotch before she was pulled away from Penelope and enveloped in muscles and aftershave.

"Welcome home, Princess!" Morgan squeezed so hard that Emily got an overdue spinal adjustment. To her credit she didn't even wheeze, though once she was freed she definitely checked her ribs for cracks. Reid was always the most awkward and he'd hung back rather shyly as everyone else effused. Prentiss solved the problem by favoring him with a massive megawatt smile right before wrapping her arms around him.

"How's my favorite Doctor?" she asked playfully. It was a game they had invented after discovering they spoke the same nerd language.

"'Never cruel or cowardly.'" Reid replied, his bashful smile turning into a grin. Garcia, Keeper of All Obscure Knowledge and Especially British Television actually felt herself tearing up at the usage of the Doctor Who quote.

"'Never give up, never give in.'" Emily finished the line with him, grinning happily. Now she had finished with everyone else, Prentiss turned her attention to JJ; patient, silent, excited to the point she was very nearly vibrating out of her skin like a frightened Chihuahua JJ.

"Hey." Emily was oddly subdued with her best friend. Garcia wondered at how either of them could contain their excitement so completely. The Interpol agent had the manner of someone approaching a priceless, fragile treasure; all awe and terror.

"Hey yourself. Punk." JJ shook her head before pulling Emily into a hug. Garcia saw that the blonde momentarily buried her face against the shoulder of the brunette's rain coat. Hiding emotion? Or removing any trace of the tears that Penelope had seen glistening on those baby blues? Emily tilted her face close and whispered something quietly that convinced JJ to pull herself together and the blonde reluctantly released her long lost friend slash emotional crutch.

(If Penelope had been on Kate's side of the room she would've been able to mouth read - As Kate did - the simple words "it's ok, Blackbird. Everything is ok." But Garcia didn't see the words and Kate, not knowing what they meant, didn't pay attention.)

Everyone went back to their seats and Garcia noticed that the two women didn't release their hands until the last possible moment.

"Prentiss, perhaps you'd like to fill the team in on why you're here?" Hotch gestured to her to take control of the briefing. Emily nodded, took a deep breath and dove in.

"Right. Well, what you see is what we know for sure. These murders span across Europe and go back at least two years. The UnSub has been getting rid of evidence by arranging for terrorists and hate groups to destroy the dump sites, effectively erasing the crime. Thus far we believe he is killing in a pattern. Always three victims, all in one night and then he simply stops until moving to another city. We don't have ID's on all the victims but there are Missing Persons reports in each city that match the victim profile."

"You have a victimology from this?" Kate (who'd been watching the reunion in fascination) gestured to the data.

"We think so. We identified two complete sets of three and it gave us a pattern: a prostitute, a middle class worker and a high profile businessman. Extrapolating that same model," she tapped a button on the remote to pull up files she'd brought with her, "We can fill in unidentified bodies with missing persons matching forensics and that gives up seven more victims. We're awaiting confirmation, of course."

"Seven more. That's eighteen total. We have seven attack sites listed here and Hotch said there could be 14. If he's sticking to this thing with 3's you're missing a lot of bodies." Morgan had a perfect face for surprise. Something about the way his eyebrows climbed high up on that shaved head. Emily nodded, running fingers through her hair.

"We know. Europol and my team are working on that aspect right now. I'm here because we have a lead on how the terrorists are getting information from the UnSub. An information merchant that calls himself The Broker is here in the US." When her hand rested on the table it was centimeters from JJ's and the blonde unconsciously covered the nervous fingers with her own. Garcia was surprised to see Emily grip back, a gesture of emotion that she'd almost never allow herself in public. Her eyes darted around the conference room and she saw that Derek had noticed too. He exchanged a quick glance with Penelope. There were definitely questions there.

"You think this guy could be the UnSub?" Hotch hazarded.

"Possibly, he may just be in contact with him. Either way, he's the next link in our chain and I can't find him without coming here. I certainly wasn't going to come all the way here and not ask for your help." Prentiss admitted, a little shyer than usual.

"Princess Independent asking for help? Hell _must_ be frozen!" Rossi laughed. Fixing him with a mock glare Emily opened her mouth,

"Si dovrà dirmi quando si arriva a lì." The perfect Italian rolled out with delightful menace.

"Andremo insieme sono sicuro, bella." Rossi laughed back and winked. Emily seemed ready with another sharp retort.

"Back here in the English speaking world," Morgan broke into the interchange, "What do you need us to do, Em?"

"Penelope, you goddess of all things unknowable, invisible and nonexistent?" Emily shifted her penetrating attention to the analyst.

"Yes, my princess!" Garcia immediately responded at full attention.

"Find me The Broker."

* * *

_Translation of italian dialogue:_

_Emily to Rossi: You'll have to tell me when you get there_

_Rossi to Emily: I'm sure we'll go together, beautiful._


	9. Home

**Chapter Nine**

**Home**

"Wherever you are is my home—my only home."  
― Charlotte Brontë

After Emily had finished catching BAU up on everything Interpol found/knew/supposed/ pretended to believe, Hotch took back over the briefing. Assignments were handed out with customary efficiency and Garcia was off to her lair on a cybernetic treasure hunt with the same enthusiasm that Reid went to tackle the geographic profiling. The rest of the team divided up the victims so they could do deeper research, possibly someone had missed a key correlating detail.

Thus, JJ sat at her desk two hours later, still staring at the file on Philip Schmidt. His body was found at the earliest identified crime scene in Germany, possibly the first ever. That would explain why there were mistakes in calculations and planning that allowed more evidence than the subsequent attacks. Of course, that was completely relative. They had fractionally more to work on with this set of killings than on any of the others. This damn sicko had planned down to minutiae before embarking on a criminal career. It was like having half a fingerprint instead of none.

Movement from beyond her office window caught her attention and JJ turned to look, a little disappointed to simply see Rossi walk across her field of view. _Sooner or later. Sooner now, actually. _Her coffee cup had been empty for almost an hour – sacrilege in her usual habits but she had to wait for the right time. _Any time now._

As if on cue, Emily rose from the temporary desk where she'd been interfacing with her overseas team. Once her hand grabbed the handle of her mug JJ was on her feet, moving to the only destination she knew Prentiss could be heading. She got to the break area at the same moment as the brunette. They met within inches of the coffee machine and there was a momentary silence as both simply processed the fact that they were really there; in the same country, city, building, room. They were actually, physically in each other's space.

"Uhm, hi." Emily greeted nervously, brushing hair back from her face. JJ had spent a better part of the briefing staring at the new hairstyle. It wasn't really new though, Prentiss had gone back to the softer, wavy style she'd had in her early days at BAU. It made her seem somehow younger and more innocent. The severe straightness and firm lines of her later cuts had felt like a frantic attempt to appear harsh and no nonsense. JJ was completely transfixed, seeing this gentler side make a reappearance. Emily must've found the confidence in herself to know she could maintain a gracefully feminine image without contradicting her iron inner strength. You don't worry so much about looking strong when you simply _are_ strong. Now she was so much more. With the soft waves of raven hair framing her face she was delicate, enigmatic, hypnotic. JJ gradually realized she'd been staring for a _long_ time without speaking.

"Is this what you meant in your message?" JJ cocked one eyebrow teasingly, "'Big surprise coming your way?'"

"I thought you liked surprises?" Emily attempted to defend herself with haphazard humor. She instinctively took JJ's mug and began to top it up with coffee. She needed something to do to avoid the penetrating azure gaze.

"And you thought a terrorist serial killer was just the thing to wrap up in a bow?" JJ challenged back as the mug was pressed back into her hands, both their fingers lingering a little longer than usual. They needed the grounding contact yet the longer they touched the more distant reality seemed to become until one of them broke away just to maintain sanity. JJ took a gulp of the coffee, absently noting that after two years Emily still remembered exactly how she took it.

"I had to, darling," Emily grinned, glossing over the oddly intimate tension, "I look terrible in nothing but a ribbon."

JJ wasn't sure why the joke made her brain glitch for half a second. Was it just the visual image of Emily wrapped in a bright red ribbon? (Why did she automatically think the ribbon had to be red? Was Prentiss some kind of Christmas present?) Or was it the suggestiveness of Emily's tone? Prentiss had always been a tease and JJ was used to the games they'd played for years now. It was part of the fun of their friendship. (Of course, a Christmas present is something you look at and want for a really long time before ever getting.) JJ's internal profiler was pissing her off so she shut it down before it got her into trouble. _We joke like this all the time. It's just because she isn't a couple thousand miles away, that's why it's different_. _I can see her perfectly for a change, right down to that little glimmer in her eye she always gets when she's won something. What did she win? _JJ was again aware that she'd been quiet too long.

"Princess, you couldn't look terrible if you tried and trust me, I've seen you try." Morgan broke the escalating panic of JJ's thoughts as he walked in to fetch a refill.

"What? When have you seen me try?" Emily shot back, never one to be contradicted.

"The tail in Jersey? We had to slip in with the homeless to track our UnSub and what does Greta Garbo here do? She shows up in a bunch of layers of ripped clothing but not a single one was dirty or cost less than $75. Never mind that your 'messed up' hair looked like wet dream bed head." Derek gestured to Prentiss' hair as though he could make her recreate the same look.

"We can't all go method like you, Morgan. For one thing, I didn't have three days of man stink to soak into my stuff. Admit it, you just pulled all the dirty clothes from your go bag, threw them on and splashed some mud on your pants."

JJ leaned against the coffee counter, watching the two argue playfully back and forth. Garbo was an awfully ancient theatrical reference for Derek to use but as JJ pondered the brunette she knew he was dead on. Even if he hadn't consciously made the connection, the famously mysterious star was a good comparison for Emily. She had the same jealously guarded privacy, a vault of secrets locked within her head and a glint of endless injuries behind her eyes. Plus, if she really wanted to she could smolder like a bed of coals.

"If you're quite done abusing me, some of us still have a job to do." Morgan finally surrendered. It had been years since anyone could tease him as mercilessly and _accurately_ as Emily and he was out of practice. JJ and Garcia made a habit of calling him on his bullshit every chance they got but neither could strike the fun-loving/sisterly tone that he and Emily had always enjoyed.

"He's gotten soft." Emily remarked, watching him retreat to his desk.

"Maybe you just got tougher?" JJ countered. She'd secretly worried that running an Interpol team would make Emily more jaded than she already was. What did Hotch call it? Doing the job but staying 'objective.' _Please, Emily came into this world detached and objective._ Rather than trying to control and cope with emotions like the rest of the team had to, Prentiss fought for them. She battled to prove to herself that she was human and could stay that way; sometimes making the emotional call just to prove she could still listen to her heart. What if she'd gotten too busy to keep fighting for that tenderness?

"Hmm, good point," Emily considered the accusation carefully as well as JJ's expression, "We'll have to test that. Do you have a picture of Henry?"

What a stupid question. JJ pulled out her phone and opened up her photos – she kept shots from his entire life at her fingertips for her own sanity. She pulled up the most recent ones (a particularly adorable set of him playing with puppies at the humane society) and Emily – already looking over her shoulder – immediately cooed and stole the phone away to look at all of them. She made all kinds of tiny sounds of affectionate wonder at the overwhelming cuteness of her honorary nephew.

"No, you're definitely still a marshmallow." JJ grinned, seeing the absolute unabashed adoration in Emily's face.

"I'm not done yet!" Emily slapped away the blonde's fingers when she reached for the phone, "You haven't sent me any pictures of him in weeks."

JJ frowned, realizing the accusation was true.

"What? What did I say?" Emily caught the sudden shift in Jareau's mood.

"I don't take most of the pictures, you know, being gone all the time. Will always takes the photos and sends them to me so I can see how they're doing," JJ chewed her lip, gazing down at the screen filled with her smiling son, "But he hasn't been taking as many and I asked him about it. He says he keeps trying but that Henry . . .He says Henry just doesn't smile as much anymore. He doesn't want to send me pictures of our son sad."

"Do you think something bad has happened?" Prentiss was all concern now, gently prodding for the anxious thoughts swirling beneath the surface of calm.

"No. Not to him anyway. But, the last year or two, you know," only JJ could sum up violent traumatic damage in a simple 'you know,' "Children are emotional weather vanes, Em. I know that. I know if Henry has been sad it's because his _home_ is sad. He's worrying about us, about me."

"Does he have reason to?"

"No. I don't know," JJ smoothed one hand over her hair before brightening, "You know what? I don't need to be doing this. You're here and that is a reason to be happy. He's going to be ecstatic to see you."

"Assuming I ever get the chance to come see him." Emily nodded to her desk where she could see the phone had lit up with yet another international call. They both reluctantly headed back to the job at hand.

"Oh you will. I don't care if I have to force you tied and gagged but you will come." JJ shot back just as she split away to head back to her office. Morgan, sitting between their two destinations caught only the last comment.

"Princess, I have a feeling you have some stories you're going to need to share." He grinned, making Emily blush and JJ confused.

* * *

The end of the work day at BAU was a tremendously fluid concept. Some nights work was over as soon as everyone agreed they wanted to go get drinks and dinner. Other times it was defined by who had plans when. On cases, it never ended; night and day made no difference as they worked around the clock with rotating shifts of sleep. This evening at 6 pm Hotch announced that no further good could be accomplished by all of them spinning their wheels. They were waiting on too much information and might as well get a good night's sleep so as to tackle the answers come morning.

"All right, early release. Princess, you know we've got some town painting to do!" Morgan stretched and rose.

"Huh-uh. No way, Morgan," Garcia emerged from her lair, "You do not get to steal her away. You just want to make her your wingman anyway."

"Guys-," Emily tried to object.

"I don't need a wingman!" Derek argued back, mildly offended.

"Please, she helped you pull more tail than a special needs kid at the petting zoo." JJ joined in, well aware of how many nights out with the team Emily had helped Morgan pick his girl. Nobody profiled women like another woman.

"She's going with me and JJ and she's going to tell us all about life breathing the same air as the royal family." Garcia stated firmly.

"Guys, please -," Emily tried again. She cast an imploring look to Callahan who could only return one of pity. No one was coming to her rescue.

"Oh, so you get to steal her away and exclude us? We're a team, remember? We all get equal time." Derek gestured to the whole room, effectively communicating how many people wanted a piece of Prentiss.

"This isn't a custody dispute, Morgan. Besides, if it were best friends get first dibs." Garcia pointed out smugly.

"Oh, so now you think you're closer to her than I am? Not likely, baby girl. I've got a couple dozen cases and distant Midwestern bar stories you know nothing about." He really was enjoying this.

"Right! That's enough," Emily rose from her chair and held up her hands like a referee calling time out, "I really, really would love to hear you two keep fighting over me for hours but can we please do it tomorrow? I've got 5 hours of jetlag and less than 4 hours sleep in the last 36. I want to spend time with all of you. Obviously. But the sandman has been clubbing my head hard enough to constitute aggravated assault. I just need to go to my hotel and pass out."

Everyone was quiet, realizing Prentiss was actually swaying slightly on her feet. JJ immediately assumed control of the room, taking the brunette's arm. Emily went to grab her go bag but JJ took that as well.

"She's right, guys. This case is a big one, she'll be here a while," JJ agreed, maneuvering her charge past the concerned squabblers, "Let's get you home."

"Thank you. I'm at the Monaco on-,"

"No, you're not." JJ abruptly cut her off.

"Yes, I am. I have a reservation." Emily protested, halting in their progress toward the elevators.

"There is no way in hell I'm letting you stay at a hotel. You're coming home with me."

"JJ, I can't do that. Henry and Will-," Emily wasn't entirely sure what she was about to say but it didn't matter since JJ interrupted her _again._

"They'll be happy to see you. We have plenty of space, the guest room is always made up. I am not letting you out of my sight, Prentiss. We may only have you a few days and I intend to take full advantage." The blonde was beyond adamant.

Garcia and Morgan exchanged a glance, silently confirming they'd both heard the same thing. It was plain to see that Emily was thinking about arguing. She had plenty of options for protests, not least of which were her compulsive twin needs for privacy and independence. A glance at Jareau's steel-set expression guaranteed she intended to counter every one of those arguments. There was silence as both women ran through mental calculations and hypothetical scenarios.

"Fine. I give in. I'm too tired to fight," Emily surrendered, "You can do anything you want with me so long as you promise I get to sleep!"

With a triumphant smile, JJ resumed escorting the now compliant Emily out of the room. Behind, in the quiet of the bullpen the four other team members looked at each other.

"Is that normal for them?" Kate finally asked, knowing she had the least knowledge of either woman.

"As normal as we can expect." Morgan shook his head and shrugged. Reid and Garcia both nodded in agreement.

"Wow. This place is turning into daytime TV. It was bad enough with just you two doing the fake flirting." Kate glanced between Derek and Penelope with a small smirk before going back to packing her desk for the night.

Garcia waited until Callahan had left before resting against the desk beside Morgan. She scrutinized his expression, seeing all the cogs and wheels turning at full speed.

"It isn't fake, is it?" he finally asked.

"I don't know. I can't tell." Garcia frowned, hating that she couldn't get any clearer a read on the situation. Even if JJ might be the type to share her feelings openly, Emily certainly wasn't. Which meant that they couldn't be serious about all the entendre. Still, it just didn't feel deliberate enough to be fake. Did they even know what they were doing?

* * *

The sound of the front door opening at the uncharacteristic stroke of half past 6 had both Will and Henry looking at each other in surprise.

"Guess mama's home early tonight, mon petit." Will smiled and turned the burner down under the pot of soup.

"Ma! Mama!" Henry went running from the room eagerly.

Will wiped off his hands on a nearby towel and followed. It would be nice to have a whole evening together. Anymore it seemed like JJ didn't even get home until the minute Henry had to be put to bed. The evenings were a chaos of speed bonding as she and her son tried to absorb everything they could of each other in the short time. Then, once Henry was in bed JJ was too exhausted for much else. The excitement of playing with her boy and the emotional guilt of not spending enough time with him seemed to leave her worn out and sensitive; never conducive to the emotionality of the conversations Will wanted to have.

Not that Will didn't understand Henry coming first. Their son was first in her heart and he was glad of that because hanging onto the tiny blond boy had been motivation to push JJ through some of her worst moments. He just wished he didn't get the feeling there wasn't any space left for him anymore.

_Arette, toi. You are being insecure, couyon. _So resolving in his mind Will also went down the hallway to greet JJ. He was, therefore, surprised that the first thing he saw was a head of brown hair. He could only see the top of her head because she was partially bent over trying to pry Henry off her legs.

"Aunt Emmy! Emmy!" the boy had a grapple hold of her knees with arms and legs and wouldn't be pried loose with a crowbar. JJ was standing off to the side, watching in amusement. She looked up when Will came in, her smile still brighter than noonday.

"Henry, Henry I need that leg. Come on," Emily struggled for her freedom, "Come up here where I can see you properly!"

She finally persuaded him to climb up her body until he rested on her hip, arms coiled around her neck.

"Emmy! Emmy! Guess what?" this was his favorite phrase lately.

"What?" Emily played along, eyes wide with wonder.

"I'm in school and there're other kids and we get to hear stories and sing songs but none of them are the hedgehog song that Uncle Spencer taught me and Miss Mary said I couldn't sing it."

"Hedgehog -," Emily hesitated as she tried to make sense of the miniature monologue, "Oh! Oh. The _Hedgehog_ song. No. I think Miss Mary is right. That's just for you and Uncle Spencer to sing together. After Uncle Spencer has had a few too many beers."

"He's silly. You have to come see my toys! Do you like Lightning McQueen?" he was now struggling to get down.

"Who is Lightning McQueen?" Emily looked helplessly from JJ to Will and back to Henry. The boy had grabbed hold of her hand and was now trying to pull her in the direction of his room.

"Oh, you'll find out." JJ grinned, watching a woman who'd cowed violent serial offenders get dragged away by a 40 lb. child.

"Hi, Will!" Emily managed to shout from down the hall as she disappeared. JJ shook her head, suppressing her laughter. She finally turned back to her husband and must've seen that everything wasn't alright.

"You're home early." Will finally decided to go with the safe opener.

"Great, isn't it? Hotch sent us all home since we can't work the case until we have more leads. Besides, Em looked like she was about to pass out." JJ nodded, tucking some hair behind her ear. Emily would instantly recognize the mannerism as a tell that JJ was uncomfortable in the conversation. Will knew it too; not as a profiler but simply as someone who'd spent years with the woman. Not everything took special FBI training.

"Is she in danger, JJ?" Will couldn't help but immediately think of the only reasons Agent Prentiss would show up unannounced. There were really only two.

"What? No." the blonde was confused now. Why did she still look like she was hiding something? Why did confusion and secrecy share such close space in her expressions?

"Are _you_?" that was the other possible reason he knew and it made his insides twist. He hated knowing that something could happen to JJ and he'd never know until it was too late but that was exactly what had happened last time. He knew that if JJ was in danger again Emily would know long before he did. The fact always left him conflicted between sad and bitter. _ That's how she wants it._

"Will, no. She brought us a case. She needs the BAU's help and I thought it would be nice for her to get to spend some time with Henry. She sends him gifts all year and talks to him on the phone but he hasn't _seen_ her since he was three."

Will thought about correcting her. Emily _had_ seen Henry more recently. But it had been in the hospital while JJ was recovering from injuries. Henry didn't remember anything from that day besides his mother's bruises. Emily probably didn't either. No, there was definitely no point to bringing up that memory.

"Ok, I understand. It's been a long time for us all. I had just hoped –," he hesitated, seeing innocent confusion in the blue eyes watching him, "You were home early, chère. I'd just thought we could have some time together to talk."

"What about?" she really had no idea. Had they gotten that disconnected these past months? Had she not noticed at all that they hadn't conversed like grown adults in god knows how long?

"I dunno, chère. About life, love, Henry. About everything. Anything other than work," he shook his head in sad frustration, "But you brought work home with you, so I guess it'll have to wait."

"Will –," JJ reached a hand out, trying to form a connection, to find out what he wasn't saying. He could see the conflict in her face. She wanted him to not be upset, to be happy right now because _she_ was happy. She was happy because two of the people she cared most about in the world were currently in the house, probably playing with toy cars. He held his breath for a moment, repeating that thought to himself. _Two of the people she cares most about. _He wasn't even sure what that made him feel. He spent so much time in a confused vacillation between anger and sadness that all he really could feel right now was numb. _Well, couyon, that makes you number three_. _Can you live with that? Is it worth fighting over?_

"Go on. I've got dinner on the stove," his tone softened, "Go spend some time with her. God knows it's what you need."

_God knows its what you want. _He sighed as he watched her head to Henry's room_. Better to be number three than to not be on the list at all._


	10. On the Hunt

_As always - all feedback is welcomed and appreciated as it helps me refine the story. Anonymous 'guest' reviewer? You really should get an account - your perspective is very useful._

* * *

**Chapter Ten**

**On the Hunt**

There is no hunting like the hunting of man, and those who have hunted armed men long enough and liked it, never care for anything else thereafter.

-Ernest Hemingway

"You do know you got played by a 5 year old, right?" JJ teased as she and Emily entered the FBI building housing the BAU offices.

"Played? Are you suggesting my darling nephew could be manipulative in any way?" Emily shot back, full of mock horror.

"No, of course not. He's allowed to get his own breakfast _every_ morning. As all children his age do." JJ rolled her eyes, sipping the earl grey latte they'd picked up on the way to work.

"Ah. Is that why his sugar cereal is stored on the top shelf of the pantry? Completely beyond the reach of any child no matter their efforts?" Emily queried innocently.

"Oh my god, you knew! You knew he wasn't supposed to have Lucky Charms for breakfast and you let him anyway!" JJ stared in horror, realizing that she'd both overestimated her son and underestimated her friend. They stepped onto the elevator, perfectly happy to continue castigating each other in public no matter the uncomfortable looks from the other agents in the lift.

"Of course I knew, JJ!" Emily scoffed, "I've listened to you complain endlessly about the perils of the cereal aisle and trying to make him eat plain cheerios. Besides, spoiling him is my prerogative as an adopted aunt. We have totally different assigned roles in his life."

"Oh good. Does that mean you'll pay for his dental visits?"

"Won't be necessary. After all, you'll be a good mother and remind him to brush and floss daily so it won't matter." Emily gave her a smile of absolute faith, trust and total impunity.

"I think you got the better end of the deal." JJ grumbled as the elevator doors opened to deposit them at BAU.

"I could've told you that from the first time I saw your morning sickness." Prentiss laughed. She dodged a flung napkin and quickly escaped to her makeshift workstation.

It was good to start the day smiling like that. Especially when the whole previous evening had been wrapped in a cloying discomfort for the adults. Emily had done her best to be polite. She'd thoroughly enjoyed playing with Henry and duly noted his not-so-subtle hints about an upcoming birthday. (Apparently the authentic Buckingham Guard soldiers she'd sent him for his 5th were a big hit and he was hoping for something similarly wonderful.) But there could be no denying the tension that radiated off Will when they were all in the same room together. Emily just couldn't tell if it was more directed at herself or at JJ. For her part, JJ had seemed entirely immune to the uneasy tone of the dynamic. She'd simply been happy to pull Emily from one room to another to tell stories, ask questions, point out small trophies and mementoes; she was the grown up version of Henry, all excitement and pleasure at having Emily in person at last.

"Ah captain, my captain!" Garcia was standing at Morgan's desk and flirting with him until Hotch appeared.

"Has someone died?" Hotchner deadpanned the question, as close as he came to humor. Of course, it was humor predicated on Penelope knowing the Walt Whitman classic she was quoting. She didn't.

"No. Well, yes, plenty have but no one new," Garcia clarified then buzzed excitedly to the leader, "I found The Broker. It took all night for my little worker bees but 5:43 this morning there he was!"

"Where?" Emily joined the discussion immediately.

"Silicon Valley. Where else?" Garcia grinned, handing everyone printouts with the full background and ID.

"No criminal record?" JJ asked in surprise, reading over Emily's shoulder.

"None that's been proven. He's on a lot of agencies' radars but he's good at covering his tracks. Or was until I shredded his firewall. Every dirty little file on his server is being discovered as we speak." Penelope had a malicious glint in her eye. She'd obviously found plenty of reason to hate this guy on his drives. Glancing over her report Emily could quickly see why.

"NIPC, CITAC, NSB, damn, even the Marshall's want this guy. We're going to have a tough time hanging onto him." Morgan whistled.

"Inform the locals, I want him in custody before we get there. We don't need him for long and these kinds of enemies give us plenty of leverage." Hotch ordered.

"Hotch, if this many feds are after the guy, he might decide it's better to not get taken at all." JJ knew that there was no way this guy was ever seeing the light of day again once he was arrested. He had to know that too, it was why he'd been so careful to keep his activities hidden.

"He doesn't look like the type to go down in a hail of bullets." Kate shook her head, studying the driver's license on the front of the file. With a receding hairline, wireframe glasses and hesitant smile he just looked like anyone's favorite uncle.

"Appearances can be deceiving. We've seen nicer looking monsters than that. Make sure SWAT knows to go in with full precautions. He may have an exit strategy," Hotch glanced at his watch, "Garcia, you're with us."

"Yes, sir." Penelope swallowed nervously. She hadn't yet decided how she felt about being in the field. She was fine so long as 'the field' meant a temporary work station in a local police office with a decent cable connection (Really, people, nothing less than 30mb/s please) and not actual geography that she had to traverse. Then she got to thinking about the fact that they were heading to Silicon Valley. She could totally get on a Fiber speed.

"Careful, Pen. You're drooling already." JJ teased, seeing the lustful glint in her friend's eyes.

"I don't think she even looks like that at Derek." Emily agreed.

"Hush, both of you. You are mere mortals and I will not be hampered en route to the bliss of the promised land." she waved their chuckles away and went to fetch her cyber-artillery.

"The rest of you, I want to run a preliminary profile on the flight. Wheels up in 30." Hotch ordered and dispersed the crowd like kids on a scavenger hunt.

* * *

On the jet JJ instinctively took the seat beside Emily, only to be challenged by Morgan.

"Ah, ah. C'mon, blondie; you got her last night. It's time to share." Derek thumbed over his shoulder, the universal sign for 'beat it.'

"What? No! You can sit across from us right there and talk to her the same." JJ gestured to the open seat.

"No way. She'd spend all her time talking to you and leave a brother feeling no love. She's got plenty of explaining to do and I won't have her censoring herself cause of the audience."

"Morgan, I'm not having that 'top or bottom' argument with you again." Emily groaned. Now JJ _really_ wanted to stay to listen.

"No worries, Princess. I just want to properly welcome you back to the _karass_." Morgan put a little extra emphasis on the code word and Emily's expression softened. He knew just the right nerve to hit.

"Better do what he says, JJ, he wants to get sentimental _and_ nerdy. It could get messy." She squeezed JJ's hand once in reassurance, nodding for her to leave. The blonde finally relented and went to another bank of seats on the other side of the jet. She took the aisle opposite so that she could keep an eye on Emily the whole time but was just outside of eavesdropping range.

"Glad to see Vonnegut still gets you going." Morgan grinned, dropping into the now empty seat.

"Of course. Besides, I had a feeling you'd make a _pool-pah_ of trouble if I didn't make her leave us alone," Prentiss grinned as Derek laughed, "So what do you actually want to talk about?"

"How good it is to see you. To have you back." Morgan's warm smile shone clear up to his eyes. Emily wanted to return the expression, she truly did. But her eyes skidded away, wary of betraying herself.

"It's good to see you too but I'm not _back._" She admitted. This conversation was going to be difficult, wasn't it? The man beside her sighed, hearing the nostalgia and resignation in her tone.

Every person on the team had a different piece of Prentiss they could read better than others; a different compartment they knew how to open and peek into. For Hotch and Rossi it was her past; Hotch saw the box labeled 'family &amp; childhood.' Rossi knew how to get into the part that came later, the places where she held lost innocence and sharp learning curves. Penelope was an expert at seeing anything dirty in her mind. She could see a glimmer of a naughty thought from 100 feet away. Reid saw the cases; where she filed them and why and he always knew which ones she was thinking about. JJ saw what she thought of herself; she could read her insecurities and convictions like a book and would spend great lengths of time arguing with the contents.

Morgan, though. . . Morgan was dangerous because somehow he saw the box marked 'hide at all cost.' He could tell every time she was trying to shove something into the vault that couldn't be opened. He could see the lies – not just the ones she told others when necessary – he saw the lies she told herself. Like, 'I'm fine, really,' or 'it's better not to need other people,' and especially: 'I have to leave to protect others.'

Maybe Derek could feel the way she was mentally reinforcing all her compartment walls to keep him out.

"_Busy, busy, busy_." Morgan muttered, shaking his head. Emily laughed softly.

"Life _is_ complicated, Derek; and unpredictable. I'm here now, that's enough, right?" she was able to turn her attention to him now, finding her conviction in the sentiment. He was profiling her, she knew that but she also knew he wouldn't find anything new.

"You tell me." He nudged, giving up on reading her expression.

"It can be." Emily's eyes instinctively went to look for JJ. She found the cobalt gaze locked on her, constant concern and attention. Morgan noticed as well.

"So, no luck with your _duprass_?" he teased gently, testing her reaction for the edges of truth.

"That's not what it is, Derek. Our lives don't revolve around each other." Emily shifted her shoulders uncomfortably. They'd officially moved into the complicated section of the conversation. The part she didn't understand, let alone feel capable of discussing.

"Uh-huh. I'll remind you of that the next time she's in danger and you drop everything to come riding in like a white knight." The big man was completely not buying it.

"I would do that for any of the team." Emily protested.

"No. No, Em, you wouldn't. You'd help in any way you could but you'd do it in addition to your own job. You'd insist on being able to do everything. You'd keep your total objectivity. JJ's the only one you'd put your whole life on hold for. We know. We're ok with that." Morgan pointed out the reality as gently as possible. The team really was ok with it – whatever 'it' was in relation to Emily and JJ. Prentiss looked like she was readying another argument; either against what her friend was saying or whatever was going on in her own head.

"Alright, what have we learned about Middleton?" Hotch stood up, bringing everyone's attention to him.

"Steve Middleton, 56, retired from one of the top ranking server farm companies seven years ago. Married, four children. One grandchild. He's lived in California his whole life and aside from his cyber record he has a completely clean rap sheet." Reid volunteered the first summary.

"He's a Caltech alumni – Reid, you'll have lots to talk about." Kate smirked to the genius.

"He's settled, a family man. Not a risk taker and has no flags anywhere in his personal history that would suggest violent tendencies." Rossi added.

"He's not our UnSub." Emily pointed out flatly.

"So sure already?" Morgan quirked an eyebrow.

"Look at his medical records; he has arthritis in both knees and had to have 3 laminectomies in his 40's. There's no way this guy could haul a dead body into any of the bomb sites."

"Maybe he took them in alive and killed them on site?" JJ queried.

"No, she's right," Garcia interjected then, "Look at the circumstances of his retirement. He left the company just after refusing to get on a plane to Seattle to do a presentation. He had a panic attack and had to be taken to the hospital."

"Here's the medical report," Morgan found the relevant page, "He was diagnosed with severe aviophobia. No way he was getting on a plane to Europe if he couldn't even hop two states up."

"That also explains why he'd end up so involved in global cyber space; it was his only way to connect with the world he couldn't visit." Reid had a deep and instinctive empathy for anyone crippled by phobias.

"So, he isn't our UnSub. He is, however, connected to him and may well know who he is. We will question him from that perspective." Hotch concluded.

Two steps forward, one step back.

* * *

_For the conversation between Derek and Emily all references come from _Cat's Cradle by Kurt Vonnegut.

_karass – A group of people linked in a cosmically significant manner, even when superficial links are not evident._

_pool-pah_ _– wrath of God or "shit storm"_

_"Busy, busy, busy" – what a Bokononist whispers whenever he thinks about how complicated and unpredictable the machinery of life really is._

_ duprass – a karass that consists of only two two members of a duprass live lives that revolve around each other, and are therefore often married._


	11. Wishes

_This chapter starts out case heavy but I promise there's some interesting Emily/JJ stuff too._

* * *

**Chapter Eleven**

**Wishes**

"Some men may be unready  
for the coming of the genie  
who grants three wishes."  
― Toba Beta

If watching interagency joint task forces mobilize in pursuit of a common enemy was like seeing a splendid machine in high gear; watching them argue over possession of the same enemy was like a drug cartel turf war. The FBI field office was a swarm of understated suits and loud arguing.

Rossi and Morgan had taken Garcia to Middleton's home, knowing that to get inside his head they needed inside his computers. Reid, Kate and JJ were watching the suspect through the observation glass as two local FBI agents guarded him. Hotch and Emily were doing everything in their power to calm the chaos of jurisdiction dispute storming through the office.

"Alright, we bought ourselves a few hours." Emily finally made her way over, looking even readier than usual to punch someone.

"Reid, get on the phone with Garcia, see if she's found anything yet. Prentiss, you're with me." Hotch signaled Emily.

"Do I finally get to play the bad cop?" the brunette followed him obediently.

"You never get to be the bad cop, Prentiss." Hotch shook his head with a tiny flicker of amusement twitching the corner of his mouth.

"He's just worried you'd do it better than him." JJ whispered into Emily's ear with a grin and a squeeze to her shoulder. Prentiss shot a smile back at the blonde before entering the interrogation room behind Hotchner.

"Are you going to tell me why I'm here? Why have I been kept waiting so long?!" Middleton demanded as soon as they walked in.

"A lot of people are very interested in your work, Mr. Middleton." Hotch began the praise stratagem. On the flight everyone had agreed that The Broker would be a man that saw himself as influential, crucial to the plans and affairs of others. Being forcibly 'retired' had left him with a bruised ego. Combine that with his inflated sense of self and manipulating him was going to be easier than a drunk girl on prom night.

"No kidding. All those people out there? I've never seen so _many_ important departments all come out for one man. You've really made a name for yourself internationally, well, a title at least." Emily agreed wholeheartedly.

"I wasn't trying to be famous." Middleton pointed out, settling back in his chair, body language opening up some.

"No, you just have been making a living doing what you're good at, even when others didn't think you could." Hotch had noticed the man was wearing a Mickey Mouse watch. It had to have been a gift from the grandchild, which meant his family was very important to him.

"I was better than that whole company. I _told_ them the server farms were just asking for trouble. Data collections like that are going to attract thieves like tornadoes to a Nebraska trailer park!"

"You had a point to prove. The vulnerability of information, the illusion of security." Hotch nudged him further, the man obviously had a message to preach.

"More like the inadequacies of man! A machine is only as good as the person programming it. The most perfect system is still completely vulnerable as long as people are involved." Middleton leaned forward again, having finally found an audience for his long-suppressed righteous tirade.

"Someone had to prove the flaws in the system. Stealing the information wasn't enough, the companies could cover that over; lie about it and soothe everyone back into a false sense of safety," Emily continued the line of thought, watching the man vigorously nod, "So the data had to go public, it had to be used."

"Right? See? Exactly! The companies cover over hacking and cyber-theft all the time! They just apologize for a disruption in services and never even admit that people's data has been siphoned off for sale to the highest bidder!"

"And why should only the criminals and companies be the only ones making money? If someone is smart enough to get in and steal the information, shouldn't they be able to make a profit off it? We are in the information age after all." Hotch kept a close eye on the enthusiastically agreeing programmer up until the moment he froze.

"Yes, yes! Wait! What? No! I never stole anything!" Middleton suddenly protested, reversing directions.

"Really? So you didn't find and sell the location of a family in Witness Protection to Chicago crime syndicate?" Emily opened her file and began flipping through the charges.

"No! I mean, yes, I sold it but – I didn't find them – or I did, but not the way you think!" Middleton was beginning to sweat. A thump on the glass interrupted the conversation. Hotch frowned, they were close to a breaking point but JJ and Reid wouldn't pull them out without good reason.

Stepping out of the interrogation room Emily and Hotch saw worried expressions on the other agents. Reid was holding up his cell phone.

"They're here, Garcia. Go ahead." He ordered to the speaker.

"Ok, getting into his drives didn't take as long as it should've and his security is painfully lax and I started to wonder if maybe it was a dummy drive and the real files were stored somewhere else –,"

"Garcia." Hotch's firm tone made her rein in the stream-of-consciousness babble that tended to afflict her when she had bad news.

"The files are all here, every piece of information he's sold and to who for at least the last year. We're talking about credit card numbers, security codes, secret surveillance files, satellite feeds, undercover identities, the top-secret Cola recipe- he's dabbled in just about everything you can imagine. But he didn't steal any of it."

"What?" several people spoke at once and Hotch held up a hand, silencing them all.

"I'm sorry, commandos. Every file has an external source tag. He isn't the one hacking the data, he just sells it." Garcia winced apologetically even though no one could see her.

"Garcia, the source tags, is there a way to ID where the files did come from?" Emily quickly shoved her disappointment to the side. This guy was still a key, she could feel it.

"I'm putting tracers on as many as I can. I see a lot of repeat patterns but he must have hundreds of sources and your Broker has some weird, private code setup for identifying each one. Given enough time I can figure it out but I need access to my own systems and – well, a lot of time."

"He doesn't care about protecting the information, just where it came from. Like a journalist," Reid realized, "Which means he has repeated dealings with the same suppliers. He really is a broker – a person who simply arbitrates an exchange between two parties. The ones who've stolen the information and the ones who want to buy it."

"CITAC can worry about his marketplace. We just need one source." Hotch grabbed the files again, shuffling through to the crime scene photographs and then storming back into the interrogation.

"Is this part of your higher cause? Making people realize the danger they're in? Were people not getting scared enough so you decided to up the stakes?" Hotch slapped the photos onto the table, spreading them out.

"What? I didn't – I don't -," Middleton stared at the photos momentarily before realizing what they were, then he did all he could to shove them away, to get out of his chair but the two detaining agents held him in place.

"That WitSec family? They were found executed on their living room floor. But you had to have known that was going to happen." Hotch held up the picture of 4 bodies, including a 10 year old girl.

"No! I don't ask questions – I just, I just -,"

"But that still wasn't enough since they were high risk anyway. What better way to get your point across than to target innocents? Genevieve Hanson was 19 years old. Alaina Correli was 26 and left behind a 4 year old son," Hotch pulled out ID photos of two of the prostitutes, holding them up alongside pictures of the blast wreckage and mangled corpses, "Did you hand pick these women to die? Did you think that would get the attention you wanted?"

"I didn't! No!" Middleton grabbed one of the photos from Hotch and stabbed it with his finger, "I know this building! This was an immigration center in Italy! Some Forza Nuova militants bought the information! They never said anything about murdering women!"

"And you thought that selling them the plans to break in and setup a bomb wasn't going to get people hurt?" Hotch was still towering over the table, glaring down at the terrified man.

"I don't ask questions! They had asked and he said he'd get it for them -," Middleton froze for a moment, realizing his slip. Emily, who'd been standing by the door came forward to play good cop. Placing a hand on Hotch's shoulder she guided him away, clearing Middleton some breathing room.

"He?" she repeated the word, sitting down across from him, "Who, Middleton? We know you aren't hacking this data yourself. You're a simple businessman and what people do with the information you give them is their choice."

"I never ask! They tell me what they want and I get it." The man held his head in both hands.

"From who? We need to know, Steven. So we can prevent more people getting hurt like these women." Emily gently pushed further.

"I don't know who he is," teary eyes finally looked up at her, "He just goes by Djinn. He sells the information through me for a fee."

"Djinn? What does he do?" Emily glanced over at Hotch, seeing the hint of approval in his face. They'd finally gotten somewhere.

"I don't know. He just contacts me – I never know when – and says he's ready to grant wishes in a particular place so I send him the list of buyers in that area. The waiting list is a mile long, you have no idea how many organizations come to me trying to get Djinn's help but he only does it the way _he_ wants. He just tells me what group he's picked and passes on all the necessary information: target, security codes, explosive source and design, time when surveillance will be shut off; everything they need. I give that to the buyers and send the money back to Djinn. Minus my fee."

"He calls that granting wishes?" JJ wondered on the other side of the glass, watching the terrified man slowly curl in on himself.

"In a way it is," Kate nodded, "He gives them a target, a method and a guaranteed escape. What more could violent criminals wish for?"

"Steven, I need you to write down the buyers Djinn sold to." Emily gently pushed a pen and paper across the table.

"I'd have to check my records, they've been all over the world." He shook his head helplessly.

"As many as you remember. Anything you remember about where Djinn has granted wishes." Emily smiled as reassuringly as possible but inside her stomach was sinking. Even as the man began to write she could tell it was going to be well over the 14 they knew.

* * *

"Ten hours flying in one day. No life like the BAU." Emily groaned as she settled into her corner spot of the sofa on the jet. They'd had the option to stay overnight but the team decided their work in California was done and they all wanted to be back in DC with their resources and beds.

"Actually, it's more like 11.5, especially when you factor in wind resistance since we have to pass through two storm cells." Reid corrected, stowing his satchel and pulling out the files they all needed to review. His aversion to all things digital meant he still preferred paper reports, no matter how dirty the looks Penelope gave him.

"Great, we won't be sleeping on this one, then." JJ rolled her eyes and dropped to the couch right beside Emily (an invasion of personal space she wouldn't have tolerated from anyone else except maybe Garcia after a few drinks). When Derek briefly moved in their direction a severe glare from JJ drove him away. He'd had Emily on the flight out and JJ resented being deprived of her monopoly. Nothing short of a crowbar was moving her now.

Morgan opted to sit near Garcia. The sexiest hacker in the world had managed to work her magic once again. They had all the files The Broker had transmitted in the last year. She'd seized and copied them to a flash drive seconds before CITAC threw the mother of all political hissy fits and confiscated everything, including Middleton. She was currently muttering to herself as she continued to find the files she could confirm came from Djinn. Garcia's concentration mantras tended to blend dirty innuendo with WWE smack talk and a splash of sailor-worthy vocabulary. Even if Derek wouldn't get any attention from her, he could be amused by the monologue.

Everyone fell to silence as the jet climbed to cruising altitude, reviewing the new information and analyzing previous assumptions in light of the day. As the urge for comfort overwhelmed professionalism jackets were taken off, ties loosened, heels tossed aside. JJ stretched out on the couch, resting her head in Emily's lap as she continued reading. Morgan added the observation to his ever expanding mental file.

"I think I'm a bad person." JJ sighed, thumbing through another page. She'd spoken quietly so that no one besides Emily could hear.

"Hmm?" Prentiss was still absorbed with the list Middleton had supplied.

"I didn't want The Broker to be the UnSub." JJ elaborated slightly.

"It would've been too easy." Emily agreed, gradually managing to turn her attention to the blonde in her lap. She absently stroked the rampant tresses.

"That. And it would've meant the case was over and you'd go home. Is it awful of me to be so selfish?" Blue eyes rolled up to meet dark brown. Sometimes Emily's eyes looked so dark they might as well have been black. Like staring into the void of a midnight sky.

"You're the best person I know, JJ, and the most selfless. I only want the case to end so I can have some time here without distractions." Emily brushed the back of her fingers against JJ's cheek and smiled; the gentle, warm expression that only came out in private moments like this – despite a jet full of people. Two of which were observing intently from a distance. Garcia had even stopped typing.

"They have got to be hooking up." Morgan muttered, still staring.

"Derek Morgan, don't you even think that. Emily is not a home-wrecker!" Garcia whispered harshly, scanning the cabin to be sure no one else was listening to them. Everyone was lost in their own world, thankfully.

"Look at them, baby girl! If that isn't eye-shagging I don't know what is!" Morgan whispered back just as quietly. Garcia hadn't been able to pull her eyes away from the almost embarrassingly intimate scene.

"No, my overly testosterone-laden tiger, it is not. _That_ is something much more meaningful than lust." Penelope watched JJ catch Emily's fingers in her own, tangling them as they continued to talk quietly, every so often one of them bursting into a smile that could've illuminated a city. When did a relationship constitute cheating? Was it a line drawn only on bed sheets? Garcia chewed her lip, worrying over her to two best friends and the tangle of traps they might have created around themselves. Was emotional intimacy a betrayal? _Is__ it a betrayal if she never had this with Will in the first place?_

A noise of irritation distracted everyone – including the overly familiar friends and the gawkers watching. Kate closed her tablet lid in annoyance, rubbing the bridge of her nose to clear the blurring from her eyes.

"Why does this guy call himself Djinn? It has to mean something." She demanded, frustration seeping into her voice.

"It must be something connected to the wishes. Djinn is just another word for genie, after all." Rossi gladly closed his own files, welcoming the distraction of conversation.

"Actually, that's not quite true." Reid objected.

"Oh, here we go." Morgan groaned dramatically with a grin.

"They're two very different things although people have come to associate both with the same supernatural concept. Djinn is a version of jinn; in Arabic the word literally means to hide or be hidden. Whereas our western culture 'genie' actually derives from the word 'genius.'" Spencer was more than ready to ignore sarcasm.

"So we can start calling you Genie, now?" JJ teased but Reid was used to the interruptions and carried on undeterred.

"Genies were originally thought to be guardian spirits assigned to each person at birth which is why they still have a basically benevolent image in all their representations in our society. Their role is predominantly defined by their interactions with humans. Jinn, on the other hand, have total free will and are viewed most frequently as a negative influence, disruptive if not malevolent. Even in the Arabian Nights stories they were violent and to be feared. In stories where jinn grant wishes it is usually at some terrible price and the wishes never end up working out."

"Like in The Monkey's Paw. The couple wish for money and they get a workman's comp check when their son is killed on the job." Emily recalled the morbid tale.

"Your basic 'be careful what you wish for' lesson." Kate nodded, also having read the story in school.

"More than that, stories with jinn and wishes were meant to be lessons in not pursuing instant gratification or giving into temptation. After all, wishes are usually peoples' deepest, most selfish desires." Reid finished his miniature dissertation.

"Like wanting a fortune or to rule the world." Morgan chipped in.

"What a waste. Wishes should be used for something better than that." Garcia shook her head.

"Oh? And what would you wish for, baby girl?"

"Mmmm," Penelope made a show of thinking, "A clone of you that I could make my sex slave."

"Then I guess I'd have to use my wish to get in on that party – can't let a clone have all the fun," He grinned back at Garcia, earning a blown kiss and wink, "What about you, Reid? What does a genius wish for?"

"Social acceptance?" Rossi hazarded.

"Nah, he wants the original StarTrek to come back on TV." Emily shot back.

"While I would enjoy that immensely I don't think my desires should be satisfied at the expense of someone else's. I would, however, be delighted if a wish could take me back in time to see the moment Isaac Newton conceived of the Philosophiæ Naturalis Principia Mathematic, I highly doubt apples were involved."

"Wow. Even a _nice_ genie might be tempted to screw with that one and just leave you stranded in time." Kate shook her head.

"What about you, Rossi? Hotch? You got a deep, burning desire for something specific?" Morgan looked over to the two older men. Rossi and Hotch exchanged glances in the classic 'if I have to do it, you have to do it,' silent agreement.

"I'd wish that Jack gets into Georgetown and that I'll be able to pay for it." Hotchner gave the small smile that always came to his face when talking about his son.

"I'd demand my cousin Sofia gives me our Nana's recipe book. She has notes in there on over a hundred dishes and not one of them can anyone cook like Nana Renata." Rossi looked like a man who'd tried several times to achieve that specific wish. In fact, he looked like he might skip genies and go straight to hit men.

"Kate? Any wishes?" Hotch looked over to the newest team member. She'd been smiling and watching the exchange but hadn't joined yet.

"I guess I'd wish to fix some mistakes," she glanced away for a second, smile wavering slightly before she got hold of her expression, "But if that isn't an option I could always just ask for a date with James Franco. I'm not as noble as Reid. What? He's super smart." She defended when she saw Morgan's eyebrows climbing upward.

"And easy on the eyes. Nice choice," Derek backed off, turning his attention to the only two that hadn't participated yet, "What about you, JJ? Some temptation you'd like to give into?"

JJ hummed thoughtfully, allowing her eyes to wander. She still had Emily's fingers tangled in her own and when she looked up at the brunette woman watching her so intently she felt confession bubbling up. _I'd wish for you to stay. I'd wish for this to never end. _She managed – barely – to swallow the selfish thoughts and push them back down where they belonged.

"A luxurious hot bath. The kind with jets and bubbles and maybe even a glass of wine and _no interruptions_ for at least an hour." JJ sighed, stretching her stiff muscles.

"Oh, c'mon! We gave up sinful desires. That's barely an indulgence!" Garcia snorted in irritation.

"Not in a house with a 5 year old. Trust me." JJ laughed at her friend's consternation.

"Fine. But we'll just have to agree it's some _very_ expensive bubbles and wine. That just leaves you, Princess." Penelope turned her attention to the silent Interpol agent. Emily looked up, an expression of surprise barely masking the underlying longing in her eyes. Was she thinking of something she would wish for? Maybe someone? No one had ever mastered reading Emily; they just captured crumbs that left them starving for more information.

Penelope would've squealed in delight if she'd known Emily's first thought (not even a thought in the conscious sense; more of an instinctive reaction) was to wish she could join JJ in the bubbles. Her second thought, however, wiped the idea away. She thought of the last thing The Broker had said as they were ending the interrogation. The talk of wishes brought it back to her.

_"__Agent, the last time Djinn contacted me? It was just a week ago. He said he'd only be taking wishes from the USA for a while." Middleton's worried eyes conveyed a world of panic and guilt. _

"I would wish to know why our UnSub has decided to start killing here."


	12. Confession

**Chapter Twelve**

**Confession**

Confession is always weakness. The grave soul keeps its own secrets, and takes its own punishment in silence.

-Dorothy Dix

_Emily finished brushing her teeth and when she realized she was drinking a glass of the tap water knew she'd let herself get dehydrated. Padding quietly down the hall in her pajamas she made her way to JJ's kitchen, getting a glass of properly filtered and chilled water to slake her thirst. Only when she'd turned to take the glass back to bed did she realize a dim light in the living room illuminated a blonde head on the couch._

_"__What are you still doing up?" Prentiss approached JJ cautiously. The blonde looked up but didn't reply, just held out her hand; gesturing for Emily to come closer. The brunette obliged, setting down her glass and letting the delicate fingers envelope her own and tug her down to the sofa._

_"__I couldn't go to sleep. I was afraid I'd wake up and you'd be gone; that this was all a dream." JJ murmured, sliding close enough that their shoulders touched._

_"__I'm here, Jen." Emily assured, thumb casually stroking the back of JJ's hand._

_"__I know. I know you are. I never thought this would happen. I used to hope but it's been so long. I can't believe it," JJ tilted Emily's face to look straight at her, "You're here. I can see you. I can touch you."_

_To emphasize the words she gently tucked a stray lock of raven hair back behind Emily's ear. Prentiss felt an internal shiver at the touch and wondered if JJ could hear it on her trembling exhale. Then suddenly Jareau's face contorted with frustration and the kind of stabbing sadness that could change the color of her eyes._

_"__What? Jennifer, what is it?" Emily rested her free hand on JJ's knee, urging her to share whatever pain had stricken her thoughts._

_"__It's not enough. Em, I'm so sorry, it's just not enough." JJ was biting her lower lip; holding back either words or tears._

_"__I'd do anything for you, JJ. You know that," Emily's hand unconsciously squeezed higher on her thigh, "Tell me what you need."_

_It was either the touch or the words but something triggered an explosion in JJ's eyes. _

_"__More." JJ whispered, slipping her leg over Emily's and sliding into her lap, wrapping both her arms around the surprised woman's neck to pull her close. _

_"__JJ." Prentiss fought for her breath, trying to understand what was happening but her brain couldn't override the electricity of all her senses overwhelmed by the dizzying amount of contact with the lithe form now wrapped around her._

_"__I'm sorry, Emily. I need more. I need more of _you._" With no further preamble she pressed her lips to the object of her desire, finding Emily's mouth as soft and lavish as she'd always imagined. The shock sucked air straight from Emily's lungs and when she gasped JJ took advantage, slipping deeper into the kiss and demanding every taste and pleasure possible from the older woman's mouth. Fingers curled in raven tresses and dug into the perfect, milky skin of her exposed shoulder and Prentiss gave into the moment. She coiled a hand into JJ's hair, seizing control of the kiss and simultaneously gliding her nails along the exposed skin below her shirt, raising goose bumps in her wake._

_JJ broke the kiss with a gasp of surprise as the warmth of a hand fanned wide over the skin of her back, both of them feeling on fire. Emily forced her own eyes open, greeted by the sight of blue almost swallowed up by passionate black._

_"'__Bout time, Lucky." JJ grinned down at her, shifting her position in the other woman's lap enough to bring them impossibly closer before capturing her lips again. Then Emily felt herself being pushed backwards, falling towards the cushions of the sofa –_

\- Emily woke in the guest bed, heart hammering in her ears and her skin still tingling over every inch. The twist in her stomach was a tight knot of desire suddenly unraveling into tendrils of guilt. Her face was flushed but otherwise would've been burning red in embarrassment. _That hasn't happened in a while. You're slipping again._ She frowned, flinging herself onto the cold side of the bed, trying to cool her overheated body.

The profiler in her brain, the part trained in human behavior and psychology wanted to be rational about the dream. _It's normal. You've been spending more time with her. You've been suppressing for a long time and it's only natural some of the old feelings would come back when triggered by familiar circumstances. Like being in DC, in her house, in bed sheets that smell like heaven because it's the same fabric softener she uses for her clothes. _Emily growled, tossing the sheets and blankets off, sitting up to get some distance and control over her senses. She wasn't going to be fooled by comforting psychobabble. She might use it on others but not herself.

_I said no. I stopped this seven years ago. I will not ruin my friendship over an adolescent bout of hormones. _ Emily stood up and paced the room, trying to get the dream sensations off of her lips and fingers. She'd never understood the dreams. Well, no, she _understood_ them. She'd simply never experienced anything like it before. She'd never thought of women _that_ way before. She still didn't. There was just something different about JJ.

_Not thinking about it._ Emily snarled mentally at herself. Thinking about it just got her more confused and tangled in her own head and she didn't need that. She needed to be thinking clearly. For the case. For herself and especially for JJ.

_Water._ Realizing her throat was dry and her body temperature still felt feverish, Emily quietly slipped out of her room and down to the kitchen, trying to ignore how surreal it felt to mirror the movements from a dream. She made it to the kitchen but forgot entirely about the water when she saw JJ sitting on the couch. _Oh,no. No, no, no. This had better not be another dream._ She crept forward quietly. JJ's forehead was buried in her hands, a portrait of anguish and exhaustion.

"Are you ok?" Emily asked quietly, concerned that if she shocked the woman she might break her. JJ straightened, looking up at her and Prentiss could see that she hadn't been crying but had been fighting not to.

"Didn't really feel like trying to sleep." JJ just shook her head. At least she didn't fake her 'everything is fine' smile. She knew it would actually only worry Emily more.

"What is it, Jennifer? Did something happen?" Emily sat down beside the blonde, all memory of the dream erased by the sudden concern.

"Will was still waiting up when I went to bed." JJ sighed. The two women had actually wondered if the house would be asleep when they got back. It was well past eleven when they finally hit the doorstep and the silence inside suggested the male members of the family had surrendered to sleep hours before. They'd both peeked in on Henry to be sure he was sleeping soundly, JJ barely brushing a kiss on his forehead before the agents bid goodnight to each other and the blonde had vanished into her bedroom.

"Ah." There wasn't much else Emily could say. Yet.

"I just didn't feel like fighting or getting the silent treatment again; I could tell that's where we were headed. It seemed like a better idea to come out here to sleep." Her halfhearted gesture towards the couch conveyed the failure of that reasoning. Prentiss was quiet for a few minutes, trying to decide what to say and in what order. First, she had to fight down her anger at Will. She knew he and JJ had been having trouble but she expected better of him. From early on in JJ's relationship with the creole detective Emily had been able to see he was good to her. He was good _for_ her. It had made it easier for Emily to put her own feelings aside. Will made JJ happy and that was truly all she wanted. Yet, over the course of their many conversations she'd detected an ever increasing note of sadness in JJ's tone whenever the subject of her marriage came up. She loved Will, there could be no doubt. But something wasn't right.

"JJ, when did it get to be like this? Why has it been so hard?" Emily gently prodded her friend further. JJ groaned and leaned backwards into the sofa, putting her feet up on the coffee table as though they were simply settling in for one of their all night movie marathons.

"I don't know. It's been happening so slowly, I'm not even sure where it started. We barely see each other a couple hours out of any day, sometimes only minutes and that used to be my happiest time of day. Now I feel like I'm better off avoiding him."

Emily settled back alongside the blonde, mirroring her position but staying turned towards her, watching every flicker of thought and emotion on that perfect profile.

"You must've noticed something wrong." She nudged again. The profiler in her saw JJ had answers, possibly ones she was hiding from. There are some facts that are nearly impossible to face: the death of a child, a family member who's a monster . . . the failure of love.

"I couldn't talk about work with him. I tried at first but even on the cases I'd handled well he would get so upset. He'd tell me I didn't have to see such things, that I never needed to be in danger, that I could quit and he would support me and Henry. He thinks just because he left behind his job in New Orleans I should be willing to do the same. He never understood how important the BAU is to me. When I'd try to tell him he'd get hurt and angry and it never ended well so I decided it was easier to stop talking about the cases." JJ sighed, running a hand over her eyes as if she could hide from the memories. Emily gently pried the hand away and held it in her own.

"What we do isn't just a job with a police department. That's a career; the BAU is a life." She agreed, knowing that asking anyone of the team to walk away from the team before they were ready was like asking them to cut off a part of their own body. JJ had been forced away once, against her will and she'd fought to get back. Nothing could take her away again and the ferocity of that passion was what made her so damn good at the job.

"After a while - when Henry got older - I'd try to tell stories about the team and that would hurt Will too. Any time I wanted to share something funny that had happened with Morgan, or a neat fact Reid had told me it was like I was deliberately showing him how much time I spent with all of them and how much they meant to me. Any harmless little story was painful because it reminded him that I'd spent a week in backwoods Alabama with the team instead of being home with my _real_ family." JJ's mouth twisted on the word 'real' like a bad taste.

"Will doesn't have any family outside of you and Henry." Emily nodded, understanding JJ's sentiment.

Most of the BAU actually had very good families – her own political upbringing was one of the few exceptions – but they all were as close to their team mates as to any flesh and blood relative. You couldn't face the horrors and dangers they did without that kind of support right at your side. You didn't put your life in the hands of just any stranger over and over again and you certainly didn't risk everything to rescue that same person unless they defined a fundamental piece of your world. Chasing and fighting the worst criminals in the world didn't take the best and strongest people but the best and strongest team. An individual would never succeed; Emily had learned that the hard way.

"It was ok before. I could handle him not wanting to hear about that part of my life. I had others I could talk to. I had you," JJ hesitated, perhaps realizing that this might be more than Emily could handle hearing but Prentiss wrapped an arm around her shoulder, making her safe enough to continue, "Then you left, Em. At first I didn't realize why it was so much harder, I thought it was because we'd gotten married and now there were all these expectations. Will acted as though being together and having Henry should've been the answer to any problem I might ever have. It wasn't. But I couldn't tell him that. I couldn't talk to him about work, or my friends, or how much I missed you. Then you weren't there every day for me to talk to about everything. I'd never felt so . . . alone."

JJ's voice was strong, refusing to yield to the emotion behind the words. Still she unconsciously tucked herself closer to Emily's side. Prentiss felt like she'd been stabbed in the gut. Which, since she actually had been once, she knew was an accurate description.

"Jen, I'm so sorry." She murmured, wishing she could take away the pain. She'd never even realized what kind of suffering her departure had caused. Sure, she knew the first time because they'd played scrabble and talked all night and the agony of being apart was obvious but she'd always attributed it to the circumstances. She'd thought it was because of the painfully sudden separation, the unjust necessity of faking her death and severing her life from everyone she loved. She'd never realized that her absence had cut such a gaping hole in JJ's psyche. Not the first time and certainly not the second. _If you had, would you still have gone? Could you have left, knowing she'd suffer? _

"But you came back. When it was important, you came. I knew you would," JJ looked up at her with a brilliant smile, only broken at the edges, "Hastings was . . .it was one more thing Will and I couldn't talk about. I tried once. He'd been asking me, _begging _me to open up about it and so I did. I tried. But almost as soon as I started talking he got that look in his eyes, the one that's all sadness and pity and guilt. He couldn't listen, Em. He just told me it was the past and I could let it go, that we both just had to move on now. I know what happened frightened him but I needed him to hear it! I needed him to share with me and he only wanted to pretend it never happened. It was like he expected me to be able to erase everything!"

Emily tightened her grip on JJ's shoulders slightly, feeling the erupting anger coil the woman's muscles for a fight. How long had this rage been seething? How hard had JJ fought to keep this same rancor at bay and not unleash it on Will?

"Wouldn't you, though? Erase it all if you could?" she asked, realizing that in holding Jennifer tighter she'd ended up with her mouth pressed to her hair, almost whispering in her ear. JJ pulled back a little, barely enough to turn in Emily's arms to face her. Taking the hand still caught in Emily's fingers she raised both palms to rest over the spot on Prentiss chest where the brand/tattoo adorned her breast.

"Would you?" she challenged, her blue eyes full of total understanding. JJ knew Emily better than she knew herself most of the time. They were allied in duty, passion and pain and neither would ever find a more empathetic confidante.

"No," Emily admitted, trying to ignore where JJ's fingers rested, "But I would've given anything to spare you your pain."

"'Strong at the broken places,'" JJ quoted with a shrug, "I wouldn't undo it because I learned from the experience. I know what I can do; I know what I can _survive_. I know what I can conquer. Will doesn't see any of that. I think he just wants me to go back to being the straight-laced, innocent girl from East Allegheny; a media liaison with a smile instead of a gun."

"Really? Cause the gun is awfully sexy." Emily teased, hoping she could ease them away from the stomach wrenching emotion of the conversation. JJ didn't deserve any of this. She didn't deserve to feel alone or isolated. She shouldn't feel like she had to choose between her family and her dearest friends. She certainly should never feel that she had to silence a part of herself and her true nature to appease another person's image of who she should be.

"That's what I always thought when I saw yours." JJ laughed, her voice starting to carry the weary fluctuations of sleep in the tone. Confessions are cathartic but exhausting and Emily could see the blue eyes were disappearing slowly into sleep.

"Well, a Glock 19 really is every woman's best accessory." Emily grinned, relieved to feel JJ's muscles all uncoiling as her body gave into her weariness.

"You know why I really don't mind Hastings?" JJ asked, so sleepy her words were starting to slur and her head was leaning against Emily's shoulder. Prentiss hesitated. Did she really want to let JJ continue with such a serious subject? _She wouldn't have brought it up if she didn't want to tell you._

"Why?" she asked quietly, hoping JJ was already close enough to sleep she wouldn't hear the question. JJ shifted, settling herself more comfortably around Emily, wrapping an arm over her waist and burrowing further into her hair until Prentiss thought she'd scream from the tickling sensation.

"It brought you back to me. I'm so glad. I got you back, Lucky." JJ hummed happily into Emily's skin – setting off her tickle response again. The use of the code name formed a lump in Prentiss' throat. The secret names had become symbols of their unique bond and everything it entailed; the shared secrets, dangers, plans and hopes. Two simple words somehow encompassed everything they'd come to mean to each other.

"Me too, Blackbird." Emily whispered back, kissing the top of JJ's head. She could just barely make out the edge of JJ's smile before she closed her eyes to sleep.

* * *

_I feel like I'm constantly trying to thread a needle. Please review to let me know if I'm still getting it right. Really appreciate all the kind feedback.  
_


	13. Security

**Chapter Thirteen**

**Security**

Security does not exist in nature, nor do the children of men as a whole experience it. Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than exposure.  
― Hellen Keller

Emily was awakened by a poking sensation. Her eyelids, lazy and rebellious, refused to open; which left it up to the rest of her senses to find the culprit. It might be JJ's nose pressed so deep against her neck she could feel her every breath not just by the air but the vibration. It might also be the elbow so casually draped across her abdomen earlier that was now digging into the upper part of her hip bone. Last of all, it might be the weight of a leg flung over her own, not so much poking but pinning her body as effectively as a sumo hold. JJ apparently turned sleeping into a full body contact sport.

Yet none of these were the poke that had awakened her. That was far more specific. She knew it because it happened again, right in her left cheek. Finally forcing an eye open she encountered the blurry image of a face not 3 inches from her own.

"Morning, Emmy!" Henry chirped happily, coming into focus as he leaned back. Emily glanced around, searching for her bearings and a clock. 6:45, thank god the boy was an early bird. What if he hadn't been the one to wake up first and find them? Fear and guilt twisted her gut before she remembered they hadn't actually done anything wrong. Somehow the intimacy of their position – JJ sprawled over Emily so possessively – just made her feel exposed.

"Morning, Henry. Shhhh." Prentiss smiled sleepily to the boy and mimed being quiet, gesturing to his still unconscious mother. She gingerly began to extricate herself, one body part at a time. JJ protested the loss of her warm and comfortable pillow but thankfully stayed asleep as Emily laid her down on the couch. _Can't just leave her like that._ Emily spotted an afghan and unfolded it over the dreaming blonde, delicately tucking her in the way she might with Henry. She also found a throw pillow and eased it under her head, satisfied to see the exhausted woman burrow into the comfort with a contented smile. Emily stroked some stray blonde hair off her cheek. She could've stayed watching that stunning profile forever; she was so at peace.

"Aunt Emmy?" Henry stage whispered into Emily's ear with more spit than voice, "Can I have Luckies for breakfast again?"

Prentiss grinned so hard her cheeks hurt. She nodded affirmative and the boy gleefully took her hand to drag her off in their joint conspiracy.

Once Henry had his bowl of sugar-packed 'Luckies' (which Emily would have to ask JJ about at some future point) Emily made herself tea, desperate for the comfort of something familiar. The last few days had been thrilling, exciting, disorienting; she needed calm right now.

"Aunt Emmy, can you stay forever?" Henry spoke up after having just finished slurping a spoonful of blue milk. Prentiss, in the process of sipping her tea, froze and stared at him over the edge of her cup. Did he and JJ share some kind of psychic connection or had his mother put him up to it? Was she going to have to withstand the guilt from TWO sets of shimmering cobalt eyes?

"Henry, honey, you know I'd love to stay with you all the time. You're my favorite," she set her mug of tea on the counter and set next to him, "But I still have a job back home that I have to do. Your mom and dad fight bad guys here and I have to do that farther away."

"But it's happy when you're here!" Henry protested, spoon and cereal forgotten, "Mama's happy and you're happy and everything is fun! I don't want mama to be sad again."

_We can fire the entire BAU. Give the FBI a team of heartbroken 5 year olds and we'd win every interrogation, every time._ Emily fought to swallow the choke of her sadness. The pain in Henry's eyes was too deep to even fathom.

"Henry, sweetheart, I need you to listen to me," she turned the little blonde boy to face her and rested her hands against his cheeks, "Sometimes adults have to deal with serious and sad things. Sometimes there are so many that we can't forget them. We can't leave them behind like we would like and that makes us sad even around the people that really make us happy. No matter what you have to remember: you make your mother _so_ happy, Henry. You _are_ her happiness."

The boy nodded solemnly. He might not understand or believe what she was saying right now but he would remember; he would think about it and hopefully he would cling to it at the times when he didn't know what to make of the silences haunting his home. Emily pulled him into a close hug, wishing she could fill him with her own strength. She'd lived through those silences, wandered the empty halls of dozens of houses hoping each new one would suddenly be the home she'd dreamt of. The tiny hands that wrapped around her in response were the smallest, gentlest thing she'd ever felt yet the touch threatened to break her completely.

* * *

"Alright, where are we on our UnSub?" Hotch asked as the last of the team settled in around the conference table. _How many times have I heard him say that?_ Emily smiled to herself as she pulled out her tablet and folders. She'd spent the morning conferring with her London agents. They had, in turn, used the time difference to their advantage and already could confirm that the list The Broker had given them was accurate. They now could verify the 14 suspected attacks as originating with Djinn. He also added 6 more.

"Twenty target cities, twenty different criminal groups taking credit for the attacks." Kate pointed to the screen as a world map lit up with glowing markers.

"My team has been able to confirm 11 more victims' remains – all dead inside before each building exploded. Garcia has been going over the IDs." Prentiss added, allowing small pictures to pop up around the glowing markers. Adding to the 18 they already knew that brought the total list of known victims to 29. Still a long way off from the 60 that the pattern predicted. The ones they might never find.

"More than that, super friends! I have found the beginnings of a pattern. At least, a pattern other than the icky ones we already knew." Garcia was nearly bouncing in her seat.

"Baby girl, did you sleep at all?" Morgan wondered as he watched Penelope's hands flying over her tablet.

"What? Yes. No. A few minutes. I was going to, really, but then Emily had given me the list so I thought I'd start looking up the cases so I could start running my cross-reference searches overnight and then I started to notice something funny but I wasn't sure it was anything until I started getting the ID's from Interpol and -,"

"Someone take away her coffee." Rossi chuckled. Reid started to obey but Garcia snarled a surprisingly feral growl at him and he thought better of it.

"What pattern did you find, Garcia?" Hotch got her brain back on track again.

"Their security. We wondered how the UnSub was hacking all their systems? He didn't have to. He only had to hack one," she hit a button on the remote and the screen filled with a massive logo of a castle tower, "Fortress. They're one of the top 10 security companies in the world and they had dealings with all 20 building owners; either setting up their systems or doing audits."

"All the data an UnSub could want on vulnerabilities and access." Morgan shook his head.

"And employees. At 16 of the twenty bomb sites we have ID's on male victims and they all worked for companies that had done business with Fortress as well." Garcia zoomed in on the specific group.

"But only two of them actually worked at the business where a bomb was set off." Emily pointed out.

"True, but they entered Fortress' data bank when the firm was hired to audit the companies where they did work and – bonus – every one of them had been red flagged by Fortress as 'problem personnel.'" Garcia made air quotes; hard to do with the remote in one hand and coffee in the other.

"Drug habits. They all failed the drug tests, repeatedly." Reid had scanned ahead to the relevant data. The team always seemed relieved when he could point out drug connections; it was a tiny reminder to them all that he had put his past behind.

"What about the VIP victims? They have dealings with Fortress?" Kate had been working the high profile victims and coming up with laundry lists of enemies but no pattern.

"Alas, no. We have 4 positively identified and none of them have any record of ever dealing with Fortress." Garcia frowned, her record of triumphant discovery suddenly broken.

"These guys are the least predictable element. They're all different backgrounds, different professions, one was a record producer and another a diplomat; there's no reason they would ever be in the same social circle. They have no overlap whatsoever." Kate sighed, sharing Penelope's frustration.

"But they do fit a victimology type," Rossi pointed out the four men, bringing their ID's forward, "High powered, successful, good-looking, younger than the average men of their same stature; these are the men that by most people's definitions had it all."

"And that pissed off our UnSub." Morgan's pen was waggling in the air like the tail of an excited dog; they were onto something important.

"Autopsies are sketchy but they can confirm these high profile men were killed anywhere from 6 to 10 hours later than the prostitutes." Emily threw in another piece of the puzzle.

"And after that third victim the UnSub stops killing. It ends the cycle which means these guys are the ultimate goal each time." JJ built on the thought.

"Specifically targeted?" Kate voiced the thought without conviction; they all knew it was impossible.

"Different countries on different continents? Different businesses and lives? No. It was pure chance. Our UnSub was out hunting for a specific type and they fit." Rossi shook his head.

"They symbolize someone. The real target that he can't get to." Hotch agreed.

"A successful father figure, perhaps? Or a resented boss?" Reid postulated.

"Maybe the owner of the company that the UnSub works for; or used to." Emily pushed the thought further.

"That would bring us back to Fortress. It's their data and codes being stolen, their systems hacked, buildings they've protected getting blown up and employees on their radar getting killed." Morgan tossed the pen to the table, the signal he'd made up his mind.

"Agreed. This UnSub has literally the whole world to choose from and Fortress has somehow defined his hunting ground." Hotch nodded.

"Uhm, guys?" Garcia raised her hand for attention, "I was curious as to what Fortress was doing at the time of each attack so I pulled their activity reports (by completely untraceable means) and-,"

"They had people in the cities?" Emily realized the inevitable before Penelope could even say it.

"It's called dramatic pausing, Princess Interrupt!" Garcia huffed comically, "But yes. In all twenty cities at the time of the attacks Fortress had a team present doing business."

"We need to talk to them." Hotch determined with a glint in his eye everyone recognized. They had a lead.

"I've got full dossiers on the history of Fortress and its current standing globally, financially and technologically. Also included are the founders and known rivals. All my omniscience showing up magically to your tablets," Garcia's fingers flew over her own screen, "Now."

"They're based out of London and New York. Emily, send someone from your team to the London office. We'll need access to all their personnel records as well as global client listings. Since this 'Djinn' has expressed an interest in staging an attack in the US we need to put our focus on the New York branch. I hope you're starting to get used to flying, Garcia. Wheels up in 30." Hotch's dismissal felt like a football team coming out of a huddle. _Break!_ Emily thought as everyone headed to their desks and cars for go bags.

"Think this trip will be as fast as the last one?" JJ wondered as she and Emily walked out of the conference room.

"Are you kidding? Just getting the subpoena for their files will take two days." Prentiss scoffed. Security companies and government agencies never played nice together.

"Then we'll have to make sure to hit that little bakery you found. The one with the little custard filled donuts?" JJ grabbed her go bag from her office.

"Chouquette! Mm, those are to die for." Emily smiled as she recalled the patisserie she and JJ had stumbled onto. She grabbed her own bag as well as all her files and folders and shoved them into her satchel.

"Who knows? Maybe we'll even get time afterwards to visit a museum. Together." JJ threw an arm around the brunette's shoulders, her hopeful grin radiant. Emily could never say no to that smile.

"Only if Garcia doesn't drag us out to a club first." She replied, easily wrapping an arm around JJ's waist as they walked out of the office.


	14. Walls

_Since JJ had her chapter of insight, it seemed only fair to do something similar with Emily._

* * *

**Chapter Fourteen**

**Walls**

"There are moments when the walls of the mind grow thin; when nothing is unabsorbed."

-Virginia Woolf

On the jet Emily watched JJ go to the galley to phone Will. She'd noticed the blonde fiddling with her phone in the car, thinking of making the call but apparently deciding she didn't want an audience. Whatever reaction she was anticipating would probably only be harder to deal with in company. Did anyone else notice the slightly troubled look that flashed across her face when she'd started to dial but then canceled the call? Emily forced herself to stay in her seat, staring at the files before her. Her eyes could stay focused but her mind was determined to wander.

The morning conversation with Henry, so short on the heels of JJ's confession had been the emotional equivalent of a backbreaker followed by a body slam and Emily really wanted to tap out. She compartmentalized her _own_ feelings well. Everyone else's were . . . messy.

JJ returning to her seat pulled Prentiss from her reverie. She looked over to her friend, seeing the full professional façade of cheer firmly in place. It had glints of sincerity in the smile she gave Emily. Perhaps not even the other team members would notice the small lines of weariness around her eyes or the way she rubbed one temple as if to reset her mind.

"Could've been better?" Emily gently inquired. It was ambiguous enough a question and asked in so casual a tone JJ was free to simply brush it off. They had long since perfected a style of conversation that allowed either of them to be as personal or as distant as they needed in each moment.

"Could've been worse." JJ shrugged.

Emily smiled slightly, realizing JJ had absorbed such deflection tactics from herself. Minimize and dismiss; her two favorite coping techniques. _Hope she can actually do it._ Most people couldn't truly let things go the way Prentiss did. Pieces of thought and feeling lingered behind no matter how unwelcome. It happened to her too but very rarely. She'd minimized and dismissed an entire childhood devoid of stability and affection as a trophy on display in Ambassador Prentiss' traveling showcase. She'd rationalized and excused getting pregnant at 15 – although the abortion still stung like hell when she got anywhere near the memory. Emily could count her scarring regrets on one hand because the rest had been tossed aside. Other people . . ._Maybe other people can't because they shouldn't._

"He's upset that I'm going to miss the parent-teacher conference Friday." JJ finally volunteered. Prentiss had to surface from her own deeper thoughts to register that words had been spoken, then rapidly figure out how to respond.

"We don't know how long we'll be gone yet." She pointed out. True, this lead smacked of laborious paperwork and delays; that didn't automatically mean they'd use up the rest of the week.

"I tried to tell him that. He said he'd lost track of how many times he'd heard that right before I disappeared for a solid week. He gets this tone in his voice sometimes, Em," JJ's fist clenched, knuckles white with frustration, "He just sounds like he's too sad to be angry and it's all my fault. He said I shouldn't worry about them, I needed to 'go be with my family.'"

"Ouch." Emily winced sympathetically at the harshness of the words. Unfortunately, it didn't completely surprise her. Will was gentle, non-confrontational; he wouldn't be antagonistic or aggressive. His weapons would be more passive than that; the death by a thousand cuts that can be inflicted with sarcasm, sullenness and guilt.

"I told him it was an important case and before I could even explain he just cut me off. 'Of course it is,' he said," JJ did a remarkably accurate creole accent, "'It brought Emily here, right?' He said that it had to be a serious case because why else would you come back?"

The stab of pain Emily felt at the words was partly Will's accusation and partly the bitterness in JJ's voice. Her eyes were echoing her husband's resentful question but with wounded confusion. Why _hadn't_ she come back? It was the big question both of them had been avoiding discussing. The job offer, returning to the US; hell, even coming for a visit!

_Walk the line, Prentiss._ Emily took a deep breath. This was her life's tight rope. If she fell there was no coming back.

"JJ, I just couldn't face," _you_, "the memories." She barely kept the true word from slipping out and hoped it hadn't flashed anywhere in her face because right now the 'no profiling each other' rule had gone out the window and JJ was watching her every tick and twitch.

"What memories?" the blonde must've seen something that was worth digging at, like the edge of a scab, "Em, you came back for _two years_ after Doyle died. I'd say those demons were put to rest. Why did you run away again?"

Emily felt the familiar tension beginning to coil all her muscles. There was a sense of being under attack, of needing to defend herself from emotional invasion. The urge to wall everything off and hide behind silence or humor was nearly visceral. Yet, warring against that self-preservation instinct was an even stronger need: she needed to not hurt JJ. Right now, her best friend needed to hear something true, something sincere. She needed to drop a wall and let her in no matter how hard.

"Jen, you know my need to keep things . . .," Emily hesitated for a moment, trying to pick the right word. Private? Separate?

"Repressed?" JJ volunteered, lips twitching in amusement.

"Organized." Emily corrected with a mild glare.

"Sure, we'll use that word and pretend it doesn't mean the same thing." JJ's smirk grew wider but offered no further sarcasm.

"I had a system that worked for me for years to keep my head straight," Emily explained, her fingers unconsciously tracing squares like storage containers on the papers in her lap, "Every thought and memory in its place; nothing too big or too loud or jumbled. That last year with the team? It started to get too hard. I couldn't keep everything tucked away. There was too much and it started to feel overwhelming. Do you know what that feels like? I was losing control of my head. It was only a matter of time before I'd lose control of my performance too and I couldn't let that happen."

"You, Em? Losing control?" JJ stared in amazement at the confession, "What could possibly threaten the steel walled compartmentalization of SSA Prentiss' mind?"

_You. _Emily pulled her eyes away from the interrogating gaze. _Loving you so much it hurt and knowing I could never tell you. _The muscles in her jaw twitched as she clenched her teeth; there were some words that absolutely could never be spoken. _Some secrets eat us up from inside and I couldn't stand the hollowness anymore._

It had been getting progressively harder that entire last year with BAU. Her erratic decisions mirrored the chaos and pain in her head. Put an offer on a house, panic, buy a house, regret, escape - she was caught in a mental squall of fight/flight responses to the strain of keeping her feelings in check. _Commit, don't commit. Keep JJ, lose JJ._ In the end it seemed easier to give up JJ on her own terms, much as she had seven years before when she locked off those same emotions. She made peace with her decision, watched the woman she loved marry someone else and quietly slipped away.

JJ reached over and took Emily's hand, silently begging her to not shut her out.

"You can tell me anything, Em. You know that." JJ gently encouraged her again. _No, I can't, but I can tell you __**something**__. _Emily forced herself to quell the nerves bubbling in her stomach. She mentally squared herself (because her posture was already perfect) and faced the probing blue eyes. _Damn, she's beautiful. _

"I just started to care too much." She explained, more truth bleeding into her words than she had intended. That was probably for the best. She didn't want to make it sound minimized or simple. There was nothing simple about how complicated her life got the moment she realized she couldn't shut off the feelings anymore.

"Is that even possible?" JJ objected. Of course she would. Someone like JJ, with a heart big enough to love the whole world and try to save it, couldn't understand the terrifying side of emotion for someone raised on ration. Emotion was for other people.

"For me it is," Emily hated admitting the weakness, "Caring at all means there's something that can be lost. Something that can hurt. Caring too much means living in terror of the moment it's gone."

JJ watched the intensity of emotion across Emily's face. Not visible by movement but by the absolute stillness. She knew that her friend had tried to pull the martyr act before, not once but twice. First with Strauss, then with Doyle. JJ had thought it noble, impetuous, selfless and above all – stupid. Here, however, she was seeing a different side to the decisions. Emily would rather walk away and take the punishment of her choosing rather than stick around to fight what she saw as inevitable. She didn't trust them. Not on a conscious 'you are going to betray and hurt me' level but on the unconscious 'I have been abandoned and hurt and broken too many times to believe you'll stay.'

"I'm not going anywhere, Em." JJ wrapped her other hand around their joined fingers, squeezing tight and wishing she could pour her own conviction into the other woman. Even if Emily thought she could lose everyone else, JJ would fight her way through hell and back to prove at least _one_ person was worth hanging onto.

"'We promise according to our hopes.'" Emily smiled, grateful for the effort JJ was making. She couldn't possibly understand how achingly ironic her words felt on the foreign agent's conflicted heart._ 'But perform according to our fears.'_

"You know, I'll let you get away with this for now," JJ's arched eyebrow communicated how clearly she knew Emily was still hiding things, "But we _are_ going to talk more about this after the case is over. I'm not going to let you just keep running away from me."

The brunette forced a small chuckle. JJ's humor was skirting dangerously close to the edge of truth. How long could Emily hope to keep her secrets?

"I hope I don't have to." Emily sighed.

* * *

Across the plane and several seats away Garcia and Morgan were watching JJ and Emily have yet another almost embarrassingly intimate conversation. Did they know that their heads always moved closer together when they spoke? Obviously it helped keep their voices down and prevented any lip-reading (not that Penelope wasn't trying anyway) but it seemed that the more serious or personal the conversation, the closer they had to be to share.

"Maybe they came to some kind of understanding." Garcia suggested, watching as whatever serious moment the two had been sharing segued to some more comfortable topic. Their body language changed subtly, a little less tension and a lot more teasing. Tablets and case files were opened even while quips and jibes were being traded. At one point Emily stuck out her tongue and JJ retaliated with a poke to the ribs. They were like kids. _Sisters. _Garcia realized. _Somewhere between sisters and lovers._

"Like what?" Morgan had seen that Emily forced herself to tell JJ _something_ but it couldn't possibly be what he suspected. Prentiss was holding back, he was sure of it. His girl didn't give away anything emotional unless a life was on the line. A life more important than her own.

"Like, they want to be together but know they can't because of Will and Henry." Penelope elaborated. It seemed like the sort of rational decision the two women would make. They would sit down and honestly communicate and share their feelings and promise to feel the same forever but never act on it. They could be close and intimate on every level except the one anyone else would care about. Penelope hadn't shared the revelation of the burner phones with Morgan but it seemed redundant at this point; it was obvious the two had a secret relationship. The only question that remained was the extent of it.

"Right, they just decide to eye shag constantly and never go more than three minutes without touching but agree to never actually cheat?" Morgan rolled his eyes. Garcia missed the gesture but not the sarcasm.

"You don't think so?" she looked back at him, loathe as she was to take her eyes off her two friends because she was _convinced_ at any second she was going to get the clue she needed.

"Baby girl, that right there," he nodded to the women who were both absorbed in the case files like always else except for JJ's fingers absently stroking back and forth over Emily's hand, "Is denial. Pure and stubborn."

"Oh come on. They're profilers! You can't really tell me they don't know what they're doing." the tech analyst adamantly objected. There was no way two women versed in reading behavior, body language and facial expressions couldn't recognize the signals they passed back and forth like flares.

"Oh, they probably do," Morgan acknowledged, "They just don't know what it means."

Derek was sure that all the times he'd spotted Emily watching JJ it was absolute adoration. He was positive that every touch JJ initiated (and it was almost _always_ JJ that initiated touching) was an expression of a physical desire. The teasing and flirtations were a constant reassurance of the mutual attraction (much like himself and Penelope). HE knew all of that. The problem was that neither woman seemed to get it.

"You really think," Garcia hesitated, barely able to wrap her mind around the thought, "That they don't know they love each other?"

"Oh no, sweetness, they know they love each other. They just don't the _other_ one feels the same." he chuckled softly, seeing so clearly the endlessly elaborate contortions they were putting themselves through to avoid admitting the truth.

"Ah-ha!" Garcia gasped in understanding, "They're in an emotional Mexican standoff!"

"And neither of them is going to be the first to pull the trigger." Derek concluded with a shrug. It was getting a bit frustrating to watch but the two women had their dance perfected to an art. Each saw only what they allowed themselves to see and neither one dared to hope for more.

"Well," Penelope settled back into her seat, fingers forming a steeple in front of her curling smile, "That just means someone else will have to."

* * *

_Again; feedback, reviews, criticisms, random quotes and moments of lucidity or insanity are all welcome.  
_


	15. Fortress

**Chapter Fifteen**

**Fortress**

"Image has to be its own fortress, in spite of the owners."

-Todd McFarlane

On landing in New York Hotch decided the first order of business was getting a physical presence to the Fortress security company. With this particular case they didn't need approval or cooperation from the local police department but he sent JJ and Rossi there anyway in order to at least keep the political landscape smooth. The last thing they needed was a territory war making the thin blue line even thinner. Kate, Emily and Penelope went to set up a work base at the hotel they'd booked. The conference room was theirs but Garcia would need some time to make her network ironclad. After that, she might get a bit creative. No matter what, the hotel service staff would be traumatized.

That left Hotch the choice of either Morgan or Reid to take along to Fortress. Which would work better for dealing with the private security sector? Morgan had a military background; he could understand their mindset and language as well as read inconsistencies. Reid, on the other hand, would simply confuse them.

"Morgan, go with the others to the hotel. Reid, you're with me." Hotch ordered each of them. He needed to walk into the company with an element of surprise.

"Hotch," Emily caught up to him as they were splitting to separate SUV's (all black), "My office just got back to me. The president of the London Fortress branch left for the USA four days ago. Alex Rochester should be here in New York."

"Alright, we'll look for him at the main office." Aaron nodded, closing the door and nodding for them to leave. He never noticed Emily attempting to interrupt his train of thought with an important correction.

* * *

Fortress was the sort of company that liked to shield itself in 50 stories of polished glass and steel, reinforced with body scanners and authorization swipe pads every 100 feet. Everything you could want for the illusion of absolute security. The sterile environment was populated with cheerfully industrious aides, eagerly naive assistants and sternly militant employees.

Hotch was mildly impressed that JJ had been able to book an interview with the company CEO immediately. Either he had a very empty schedule or the mention of the FBI was enough to make him clear it. They had only sat for 4 minutes in the comfortably appointed waiting area before the doors swept open and a voluptuous assistant told them they could go in. Any non-profiler might have thought Reid was checking out the woman as he walked past. Hotch was internally pleased that the young doctor was so on alert that he was analyzing everyone who crossed their path. What would have been an appreciative ogle from any ordinary man was a systematic cataloging of evidence and tells for Spencer.

The office they walked into was a profiler's dream. More than enough information to study to divine the personality of its occupant. But first and foremost was the occupant.

The 6'3" man was already in front of his desk and walking towards them both with his hand outstretched.

"Mister Rochester, I'm Special Supervisory Agent Hotchner, this is SSA Reid." Aaron introduced to the dark haired man so enthusiastically pumping his arm. He'd stopped introducing Reid as a doctor, as far as he was concerned being an FBI agent was reason enough for respect.

"Absolute pleasure, Agent. Truly. I'm Arthur. Now, I know we security lot don't have the best history with you government blokes but I assure you it's only because you're wankers." Arthur Rochester grinned and assaulted Reid with a similarly aggressive handshake. His clipped accent bespoke decades of British upbringing.

Hotchner did a quick assessment. Arthur Rochester was 37 (he knew this from the dossier, not his observation) and highly conceited. The man radiated self-assurance to a pathological degree. Hotch eyes did a rapid visual sweep, noting everything about his appearance. Black hair artfully styled, neatly trimmed van dyke goatee, $3000 suit, Rolex watch, diamond pin in the neck tie. A physique carved by years at the gym and the delicately manicured fingernails Hotch had felt in the handshake all detailed a man more in love with himself than anything else. Hotchner smiled. He really disliked him already.

"In this case, Mr. Rochester, I think you might find yourself grateful for our intrusion. You see, we're investigating a stream of crimes that all relate to your company." Hotch teased, watching the man's eyes light up at the hint. He was a good poker player, keeping his reaction casual and controlled.

"Oh? Someone finally figure out that Big Charlie in Training is a bit of a short eye?" Rochester chortled, leaning against the edge of his desk.

"No. Have you gotten reports of buildings protected by your security being destroyed by terrorists?" Reid interjected. Rochester had barely acknowledged the diminutive doctor and now he studied him with a glance both calculating and incredulous.

"It happens more often than you'd think. We secure buildings in high risk zones. Unfortunately, a zealot with a car bomb is more than we can prevent unless we're allowed total control of the physical structure." Arthur's shrugging smile encompassed a spectrum of meaning; from 'there are crazy people everywhere' to 'we make money off all of them.'

"These are businesses that have been targeted by hate groups." Reid pointed out. His innocent omniscience couldn't be hampered by anything, not even the arrogance of his audience.

"Look, Agents, our business is security. Companies wouldn't come to us if there wasn't someone they were scared of. Am I aggravated that some of our security systems proved inadequate? Yes. But that's the nature of the game. These businesses have enemies and we're always trying to stay one step ahead. I didn't catch which department of the FBI you represent?" his puzzlement over Reid was now manifesting itself. He clearly couldn't reconcile the scrawny young man with the image he expected of FBI agents with guns, muscles and gonads.

"We're with the Behavioral Analysis Unit." Reid continued to ignore Rochester's skeptical gaze.

Whatever the Brit had been expecting to hear, it obviously wasn't that. His face smoothed markedly into an expression of relaxed amusement.

"Behavior? Like psychology? So you guys are like the ones in the movie, the blokes hunting Hannibal." He unfolded his arms into a posture of open confidence. He didn't think he had anything to be worried about. _What was it Butler said?_ Hotch continued to simply observe the interchange. '_The truest characters of ignorance are vanity and pride and arrogance.' This man is the trifecta._

"Behavioral analysis is more than just psychology. It's understanding human nature, analyzing environments, geographical patterns, social indicators –," Reid began to list the many factors involved in their work.

"Right, so do me." Arthur interrupted.

"Sorry?" Reid shook his head, a tiny sign that he'd had to reset his thought process.

"You lot are so good at figuring things out, why not show me?" Rochester was grinning now. He had mentally written the agents off as touchy-feely researchers with no impact on the real world and little understanding of it. Reid glanced over at Hotchner. The team leader gave a subtle nod of permission.

"Well, starting with your office space I see a massive proliferation of medieval weaponry." Reid pointed to the dozens of mounted frames and display stands.

"I've been collecting for years." Arthur gamely confirmed.

"But it isn't a coherent collection. Look, you have a 12th century Koto katana right beside a 17th century claymore. The mace there from the Rurik dynasty is easily 200 years older than the Swiss pike closest to it. You have weapons spanning thousands of miles, dozens of ethnicities and hundreds of years. It would be a curator's nightmare," Reid gestured in frustration to the incoherent assortment, "Really the only thing these weapons all have in common is: they're weapons."

"So? I like pointy things." Rochester cocked an eyebrow, barely containing his amused scorn.

"No, you like feeling safe. You've armed your office with weapons in order to create a hostile environment towards visitors. You want to subconsciously threaten the people who come here for business. That suggests you actually feel fairly inadequate in your professional dealings. You're looking for an edge." Reid concluded with his trademark shrug.

After the sweeping summary there was silence for a few seconds. Rochester was gazing at Spencer with a mixture of wonder and ire. The genius had just shredded a defense mechanism and exposed the frailty underneath. Very few people responded well to such things. Hotchner was just grateful Reid had decided not to point out all the indicators that the CEO was sleeping with his secretary.

"We are very good at our jobs, Mr. Rochester. Right now we are looking at a series of deliberately planned attacks that amount to targeting your company. Multiple groups of terrorists have been able to purchase security codes and surveillance overrides from an anonymous individual directly penetrating your systems." Hotch stepped in to fill the heavily charged silence.

"You mean," for a moment all of Arthur's business-like erudition failed him, "We got hacked? Oh shit. Alex is going to have someone's head on a platter!"

The panic was real as he raced to the phone on his desk and began typing in rapid messages. Hotch glanced to the smaller desk tucked in the far corner of the room. The placard read 'A. Rochester,' the same as the one on Arthur's desk. There were no weapons anywhere in that area, just a few display cases of medals and an almost obsessively organized work space.

"Your partner governs the IT systems?" Reid inquired, seeing the very real panic on the Englishman's face.

"Yeah, my sister actually. Christ, Alex is going to bloody have someone's balls when she finds out about this." Arthur groaned, combing fingers through his hair before suddenly realizing he was still in front of FBI agents. He forced the worry from his expression and shot his cuffs, regaining his assurance.

"Sorry," he came to stand in front of his desk to restore a modicum of professionalism, "I'm truly grateful that you brought this to our attention. Is there something we can do to help your investigation?"

"There is," Hotch loved it when they dug their own grave, "We need complete access to your personnel files, client records and travel logs. Fortress is either the source or the target of a series of very vicious attacks. The sooner we can analyze your data the sooner we know the relative threat."

"Client records," Arthur repeated, his eyes clouding with hesitation, "Naturally, I would love to turn those over but I am accountable to the board of directors and since client privacy is one of our chief mandates I'll have to submit the request to them for approval."

_And we were getting along so well._ Hotch would have sighed in disappointment if he hadn't expected as much.

"You do realize your board vote would be irrelevant against a subpoena." He threatened gently. Rochester's expression went rigid, as did his body. The only part of him that reacted was his eyes and they snapped indignant fire. Indignant and furious over being challenged. _Hmm, have a temper do we, Arthur?_

"Obviously, no one can refute a government subpoena. If that's what you feel is necessary then by all means go get one. In fact, I think I might have to insist on it." Arthur's wooden smile held no patience for them anymore. Hotch and Reid could tell the interview was over and politely excused themselves, ignoring the slam of the office door at their backs. Aaron straightened his tie slightly and looked over to the administrative assistant who'd been staring at them in terror.

"We need to see Alex Rochester. Is she on the premises?" he flashed his credentials, knowing the girl would crumble into an enthusiastically dutiful mess in her eagerness to assist.

"Oh! No, no she's not," the girl was desperately happy to help, "She's been working from the Rochesters' home in Greenhaven. Poor Mrs. Rochester, she's on bed rest and Miss Alex came from London to keep her company. They're old friends."

"I see. She just came back to town recently?" Hotch recalled the information Emily had received from London.

"Yeah, she and Ar- Mr. Rochester both arrived back in New York last week. When the doctors said Mrs. Rochester was at risk they canceled their whole business itinerary." The girl blushed on her telling slip.

"Very loyal of them. Could we please get the address of the Greenhaven residence?"

"Certainly. Here you are." She scribbled down the house address. Without consulting any reference. _Oh yes, she's definitely sleeping with the boss. _Hotch gave her a kind, polite smile and they quickly departed.

In the car Hotch hit the speed dial of his phone before even putting a key in the ignition.

"Rossi." Dave answered from the other end, the slight echo identifying speakerphone. Hotch and Reid could pick up the ambient noise of a police station in the background.

"Dave, the London partner is Arthur's sister Alex. I want you and JJ to head out to Greenhaven in Rye to," Hotch read off the scribbled address, "Talk to her. She's in charge of the cyber security and computer systems Fortress provides."

"Got it. What about the Rochester you talked to, was he cooperative?"

Hotch glanced at Reid, a slightly arched eyebrow asking his opinion.

"He's a complete narcissist but with a localized inferiority complex," Spencer summarized, "He isn't inclined to help us and will most likely be more pleased to obstruct our investigation."

"Delightful. So the sister might be our only way in?"

"Not the only way but probably the fastest." Hotch admitted. Garcia could hack the files they needed, but it wouldn't help the overall case to gain evidence by illegal means, even though no one could ever prove it with Penelope.

"Alright, we'll head out now." Rossi confirmed and signed off. Hotch turned on the SUV and pulled into traffic. He'd skimmed the dossier on Arthur Rochester but was suddenly feeling compelled to study it more carefully. Fortress was holding secrets.

* * *

_I know this chapter was all case - the next one pretty much is as well. Gotta get out of the girls' heads for a bit just to give them a breather. I would still love any reactions/feedback._


	16. Siblings

_This one is long, go get a bathroom break. Also, thanks so much to everyone who has been reviewing and providing feedback- it's been incredibly useful and tremendously motivating!_

* * *

**Chapter Sixteen**

**Siblings**

"Most siblings share a private universe tropical with benevolence, betrayal, vendetta, reconciliation, and the use and abuse of power of which their parents know practically nothing"  
― Lionel Shriver

The massive Tudor style mansion reigned over its rambling acres like a feudal lord surveying his domain. As Rossi and JJ pulled up they both noted the deliberate affectations of opulence scattered haphazardly amidst far more blatant manifestations of paranoid security. The original Italian sculpture fountain in the circle of the drive was rather artistically compromised by the security cameras on every corner gable.

The sound of the chime brought a woman to the door who was clearly flustered, aggravated and not the homeowner. Her nurse's uniform identified her role in the home, so why was she opening the door?

"SSA Rossi of the FBI," Dave flashed his badge before taking off his shades, "This is SSA Jareau. We need to speak with Alexandra Rochester."

"She won't leave the bedroom!" the tiny nurse exploded with pent up frustration, "She won't even come answer the door! She stays 24/7 and instead of letting me do my job I have to answer the phones and doors and fetch food like a servant!"

"I see. And your name?" Rossi pocketed his credentials with a kind smile. There was nothing better for a profiler than a house full of emotionally overwrought people.

"Whithers. If you want Miss Rochester she's up the stairs, to the right, door at the end of the hall." Nurse Whithers pulled the door wide open, welcoming them with a grand gesture of her arm.

The house was a masterpiece of medieval and renaissance art married carefully to modern decorating styles. It was clearly a case where someone with money wedded someone with taste. The elaborate bannister staircase led them to the east wing (there could be no other word for a hallway so large) and they analytically made their way towards the final destination, picking up crumbs of information along the way. Rossi knew three things before he even knocked on the bedroom door. These people were rich, educated and unhappy.

"Yes?" a clipped feminine voice answered their knock. Stepping in revealed a large bedroom that had been converted to something like a cozy hospital space. Rossi couldn't quite comprehend what he was seeing in the assortment of books, computers and pieces of medical assessment machinery. JJ found it more familiar – this was what a woman trapped in her bed would need to survive and stay sane. Speaking of a woman trapped in bed . . .

"I can roll over for a conversation!" Mrs. Rochester was adamantly arguing with another woman seated to the side of the bed who was holding her firmly in place.

"No. You can't. You can talk to them from here, Kara. You aren't due to turn over for another 15 minutes and you're only trying to get onto your back which you know the doctor said was a bad idea." The dulcet reply was both patient and mocking.

"I'm sick of being in fetal position! Left side, right side, left again – I'm getting seasick!" Kara Rochester replied with good-natured petulance. She was a blonde women in her late 30's and clearly full of stubborn opinions.

"Then I'll get you a magnetic bracelet like the biddies on the cruise ships. You aren't rolling over yet." The other woman – a brunette who hadn't turned to face the visitors – stated with firm but affectionate resolve.

"Alex Rochester?" JJ inquired, hoping to attract the attention of either woman.

"That's me." The brunette rose from her chair beside the bed. _Unfolded, more like it._ JJ watched as the woman straightened to a height easily cresting 6'1". She was wearing sweats emblazoned with a UK military insignia. The military background would explain the easy way she held herself at attention, even though she was still hanging onto her sister-in-law's hand.

"SSAs Rossi and Jareau from the FBI. We need to talk to you about a case we think involves Fortress." Rossi flashed his badge but didn't get the confused or compliant response he expected.

"She's on bed rest for three weeks. There are complications. Can't this wait?" Alex didn't even glance at the credentials.

"No, unfortunately, it can't. We need to understand your role and expertise in order to get a clear picture of the threat." JJ stepped forward, noticing that Kara seemed irritated with the excessive protection.

"But to make sure Mrs. Rochester is safe, how about you two step outside and I'll keep her company?" Rossi volunteered, "I see from the books scattered around here that she and I have quite similar tastes. We can trade reading lists."

JJ gave a completely imperceptible nod to Rossi. He wanted to be left alone with the wife. He'd noticed something worth pursuing.

"She can't roll onto her back. She isn't due to go the bathroom for another 25 minutes. She needs to roll to her other side in 15 -," Alex began to enumerate the rules, ticking them off on the fingers of her free hand with the air of a parent laying down laws for children.

"Alex! I'll be fine! It'd be nice to talk to someone else for a change!" Kara interrupted the laundry list of protocol.

"Kara, you can't get too excited." Alex worried as she saw the hint of flush in her sister-in-law's cheeks.

"I have a reason to be excited, for heaven's sake! All Arthur ever wants to talk about is work and all you want to talk about is the pregnancy. Here is a nice man that wants to talk about books! I can handle it!" Kara groaned in frustration at her jailer.

The dark haired woman hesitated for a moment but finally smiled in surrender. She leaned over and gave the bed-ridden woman a brush of a kiss on the top of her head and muttered a few words in what JJ recognized as French. Jareau cursed herself for not having better mastery of the language, especially after 7 years with a creole speaker. She could pick up three key words and adding them together it sounded like 'I love the craziness.' Still, she made a mental note to store the phrase and ask Emily later for a more accurate translation.

"Moi aussi. Now go on!" Kara replied, swatting at her sister-in-law to shoo her away. After the door closed behind the exiting Alex and JJ Rossi watched Kara stretch luxuriously and begin to move before fixing him with a critical assessment.

"Are you going to tell on me?" she raised a critical eyebrow. The blonde had a feisty streak that he couldn't help but like.

"Not if you don't name me as your co-conspirator." Rossi smiled and took her elbow to help her roll to her other side.

"God! When everything is this controlled the smallest rebellions feel like heaven." Kara sighed in bliss. She settled into the pillows and seemed content to watch the FBI agent peruse her room.

The walls and shelves were adorned with picture frames. Rossi quickly picked Kara out in each photo and by estimating her age guessed that he was seeing anywhere from 15-20 years of personal history in photo documentation. He could track her transition from a wild, crazy-haired college student down to the modern, shag cut she now sported in deference to the low-maintenance needs of a busy adult life. Half the pictures were herself with Alex Rochester, starting back in the college days. The other half had a man instead, one that bore a striking resemblance to the Rochester girl.

Rossi picked up a wedding picture, noting that the groom in profile was almost identical to the woman who'd left the room.

"Strong family resemblance," he commented, holding the picture up, "Twins?"

"Polar twins, actually," Kara confirmed with a fond smile, "They're called semi-identical but honestly being polar means they're more alike than any other boy/girl twins could be. In looks anyway."

"Genetics are funny that way. I notice a lot of you with either one of them but," Rossi gestured around the room in casual confusion, "I don't see any of them together. Do they not get along?"

"They manage to run a multi-billion dollar company together. I'd say they get along well enough. They were naturally competitive and their father pushed them hard. He named them for famous conquerors: Alexander the Great and King Arthur. He wanted great things for them but it's a lot to live up to." Kara explained, reaching for a picture on her nightstand and fondly tracing the outline of a face. From this angle it could've been either of the twins.

"That was their father," Rossi nodded, "What about their mother?"

"She died in childbirth. That's why Alex is so hyper vigilant with me right now. She won't even let me go to the bathroom except on the scheduled breaks." Kara growled in irritation but there was affectionate tolerance underneath.

"You're pregnant with twins?"

"Guess it's the Rochester genes." Kara nodded with a smile, hand gliding fondly over the expanse of her stomach.

"No wonder you're going through so much literature!" Rossi switched subjects, moving onto the books that had caught his eye. The hardbound and leather volumes were strewn on every surface in the room. He could tell without even looking inside that most of them were first and limited edition prints. Aside from that, they all had another connecting theme. The Scarlet Letter, Madame Bovary, Anna Karenina, Rebecca, Wuthering Heights, Jane Eyre_, _Mansfield Park, The Canterbury Tales. It was positively a literary compendium of stories on a recurring subject. Rossi picked up the most weathered looking hardback on the bedside table. It had clearly been well-read and well loved.

"Gatsby," he sighed in appreciation, thumbing the worn pages, "I always loved this book even though I didn't entirely understand it."

"Fitzgerald can be a bit melodramatic," Kara agreed, eyes following his fingers over the pages, "But what's not to understand?"

"All those symbols and metaphors. The green light on the dock? It just seemed like fancy dressing up for an old, familiar problem. People cheated and suffered the consequences. Did he really need to romanticize it to the degree he did?" Rossi tossed the book back onto the nightstand, giving himself a small victory point when she grabbed the slighted volume and held it close to her breast.

"I don't know about symbols, agent Rossi. I've read this book over a hundred times and I think I see something different with every reading," she fingered the cover fondly, "And I know what you're saying is the most obvious interpretation but I've started to wonder if it isn't so simple. I think that Daisy was never in love with Tom. It was a marriage of necessity or maybe just convenience. That being the case, if Jay was her true love, wouldn't that make adultery her only option to be faithful to her heart?"

"Perhaps that was one of the things Fitzgerald wanted us to think about." Rossi demurred answering. He didn't need to give his own opinion; her comment had given him answers of his own. If Kara Rochester wasn't already engaged in an affair, she was seriously thinking about it.

Rossi excused himself and stepped from the room, his glance to JJ the covert signal that it was time to trade places.

"Is Kara ok?" Alex looked over Rossi's shoulder into the bedroom. Her move to head back into the room was blocked by David slipping into JJ's vacated space.

"She's fine. Don't worry. Agent Jareau is a mother herself and I imagine they'll have plenty to talk about. Right now, I need to ask you about Fortress' operations." He held up his hands, calming her concern. The Amazonian woman relented, backing away but not standing still. She shifted her weight continually, body moving as though she expected to have to spring into action at any moment. _Embedded training._ Rossi duly noted.

"Our investigation of a chain of global terror attacks has led us back to your company. Somehow the private security codes and protocols of your systems are getting leaked and exploited."

"Leaked?" Alex stopped moving, her whole body going rigid, "Our data was stolen?! Bloody hell! Why didn't you tell me sooner! I've got to get the team on scrubbing the irons. We have to recreate the entire security protocol, create new algorithms, change the encryptions, I have to notify the compromised companies – hell, _all_ the companies."

Her groan of anguished frustration didn't interfere with her ability to pull out her phone and begin typing orders. She was muttering continuously to herself a litany of the necessary procedures intermixed with a list of the people she'd punish.

"Miss Rochester, I know this is troublesome news and your first priority is obviously fixing the security breach. However, _our_ priority is in figuring out how these crimes are connected to your company. Please, could you walk me through your global operations?" Rossi gently placed his hand over her phone, obscuring the screen. Alex's fingers twitched like she intended to continue typing despite the obstacle but her eyes finally settled on Rossi and she shook herself free of the overcompensating control mania that had taken hold of all her thoughts.

"Sorry, of course. What do you need to know?" Rochester apologetically put her phone away, fixing him with her full attention like any cadet in front of their captain.

"Walk me through what you do, what Fortress does." Rossi encouraged. The woman had to start talking. Once she got involved in the conversation he would be able to find the threads to pull.

"Right, uhm," she was working to get thoughts in order, "Sorry, Arthur usually handles the sales pitches and public speaking. I – we – Fortress does multilevel security. Ideally, a company lets us design their system from the ground up: hire personnel, install surveillance, create a mainframe; everything. We don't get that kind of autonomy often though. More likely we come in and try to upgrade damaged and faulty systems. We have to figure out a way to make them better knowing they won't be perfect. Our primary income is from audits and upgrades. That's what I spend most of my time on."

"Audits?" Rossi could tell from her voice that she'd finally found her comfort zone.

"A team goes and does a full security analysis; physical, digital, financial and personnel. We look for any vulnerability that could be exploited to harm the business. It usually ends up being the structure they're in, outdated technology or bad employees. We provide a detailed risk assessment and protocol for solutions. Most of the time they'll have us fix everything, occasionally they just decide to take their chances." The slight roll of her eyes conveyed her opinion of such companies. It wasn't entirely surprising that her brother was the salesman of the company. This woman's face betrayed every thought, especially professional scorn.

"Is it always the same people doing the audits? How long do they take?" Rossi never made notes during an interview but he mentally filed every tidbit of information and could always see gaps.

"We have three teams trained for auditing. The one I lead doesn't usually spend more than a week on a single business but word of mouth works well for our advertisement. One job in a town quickly leads to three or four more. I once spent a full six weeks in Zurich. I had thought the English climate was dreary! The teams themselves rotate a fair bit. There's quite a lot of turnover in this field, as you can imagine. Plus, your government keeps stealing my best employees."

"And your brother? Does he lead one of the other teams?" Rossi already had Hotchner's assessment of the CEO, he wanted to get an insider's perspective.

"God no! Arthur is quite excellent at what he does but he hates field work. He can do it if he has to but it's just been a bit too long since his RMC days." She shook her head adamantly. Rossi mentally scanned the files he'd skimmed on the plane, looking for the acronym. _RMC, RMC; Royal -_

"He was a marine?" his brain found the relevant fact.

"Both of us were. He didn't really take to it as well as Father imagined he would." The rueful smile held dozens, possibly hundreds of stories. Bad military careers were rife with secrets. Rossi let himself reassess the woman in light of the information. He'd guessed military but being a marine changed the picture slightly. Suddenly he began to wonder what sort of muscle tone and training was concealed by the oh-so-casual sweats and sloppy ponytail?

"So he stays in New York." Rossi repeated for clarification. There was another thought puzzling him. Why would a marine that hates field work start a security auditing company? _She did say he does the sales and public appearances. She leads a team. The company would need them both but perhaps it wasn't Arthur Rochester's idea._

"Mostly. Perhaps once in a month or two we'll get a contract with a company so important Arthur insists on coming along. He calls it 'bringing in the big guns.'" There was another roll of the eyes, longer and more marked.

"You don't like working with him." Dave felt he was finally finding a useful piece of information. The woman shifted her stance as though she'd just become uncomfortable. She was figuring out the most tactful answer.

"I'd simply prefer not to." She managed, keeping her tone even but her eyes (which had been locked on his up to this point) slid away.

"He doesn't pull his weight?" Rossi pressed, waiting for the eyes to come back.

"No. He's good at what he does. It's only," left, right, up, down; looking anywhere but straight ahead, "He tends to go a little crazy when he's away. He says the home rules don't apply to other countries."

"What rules does he break?" Rossi knew better than to get excited too soon but it took decades of experience to keep the urgency out of his tone. She needed this to be an ordinary conversation, casual and calm. If she saw the glitter of intense inquiry in his eyes she might shut down.

"I really shouldn't discuss it." Alex shook her head, ever so slightly biting her lower lip. Her military training was keeping her glued to the spot until she was dismissed but she radiated the urge to flee this entire subject. She wanted to protect her brother but also the company. Perhaps she was being forced to choose between the two.

"Miss Rochester, Alex, it may be important. We need to understand Fortress in order to figure out why your data has been targeted. Knowing Fortress means knowing the mind behind it." He deliberately avoided naming Arthur as that mind since his own suspicions ran in a different direction. _It would explain her urge to protect the business._

"Fine," she let out an irritated huff but at once her eyes were back boring into him, "The first thing Arthur does when he gets his passport stamped is look for pills. Most of the time he wants X and Oxy but occasionally he mixes it up with some uppers or blow. Once he has a stash he gets someone to party with." The irritation in her eye was turning into something more intense, something angry.

"He gets a hooker?" Rossi guessed, watching emotions bloom over the woman's face. _Judgment, aggravation, shame. Interesting._

"Yeah and he's not too picky about what kind. Christ, he gave Kara the clap twice before I started picking his girls." She growled in disgust.

"'Pick his girls?'" Dave had to repeat the statement, both to be sure he'd actually heard her right and also to watch that same cycle of emotions replay in her expression.

"He was just trawling the streets, the idiot. I began contracting escorts that could be vetted. It's not like he hasn't got the money."

"Who else knows about this?" Rossi knew that the woman would use every skill in her tool bag to keep these stories out of any public forum. These kinds of secrets would hurt absolutely everything and everyone she so clearly wanted to protect. How much of her life was devoted to keeping her brother, his wife and their company safe?

"The team has to cover for him when he's still rolling and can't work but they know better than to talk about it. Image and reputation are everything in security, after all; even more important than results. Beyond that? The drugs are paid for in cash. Hookers used to be but I arrange the escorts as a business expense. The way Arthur tears through money in the Entertainment Account to charm clients? No one cares about a few extra grand spent on a night when he was supposed to be alone."

"I see. I understand that this was difficult for you to discuss. I appreciate your honesty," Rossi patted her shoulder the way his marine sergeant had done to him years ago, "When was the last time your brother was in the field with you?"

"Belfast. We had appointments all through the UK: Edinburgh, London, Belfast, Dublin. Then Kara had to go into the hospital with complications so we both decided to end early and come back to New York. We didn't want her to be alone. Kara thinks we're overprotective." A small rueful smile replaced the irritation and anxiety that had been marring her features.

"There is no such word where a mother is concerned. Thank you for your time, Alex." Rossi smiled sympathetically. For the barest second he could remember Carolyn's pregnancy. He hadn't been present for it any more than he was for the rest of the marriage but he could still vividly recall the anxiety, the taste of fear in his mouth every time he had to answer a midnight phone call in a remote hotel room.

"Agent Rossi," Alex's voice stopped Dave just before he went to the bedroom door, "This security breach with our data. You're certain it's from outside Fortress?"

Rossi wasn't certain of any such thing. In fact, he and Hotch had discussed that very question on the flight. An internal leak would be far easier than an invasive hack. Particularly after Garcia told them she'd done a discreet test of the Fortress systems and declared them exceptional. Not impossible (certainly not for the sexiest hacker on earth) but more work than might be worthwhile to your average black hatter.

"Do you have staff that you think might compromise your data?" Rossi tested. Answering a question with a question, classic deflection technique but the brunette didn't notice.

"In this field we employ all sorts, Agent. Mercenaries and military can only provide a portion of the expertise. To truly test for all weaknesses we need people of," she paused, searching for a word, "Diverse skills."

"Criminals." the FBI agent stated bluntly. He could already imagine the 'diverse' skill set that a security company might decide to employ. Larcenists, hackers and hit men were just the beginning of list.

"No. Not quite. If they had been caught, I wouldn't hire them," she corrected him sharply, "However their resumes are seldom traceable and always shredded after they're hired. For their protection and ours."

"Then it would be best if our team could get access to your personnel records. Your brother however –,"

"Let me guess," Alex interrupted with a sardonic smirk, "He's invoking the privacy clauses and wants to go running to the board for a vote."

"Something like that." Rossi nodded, moderately impressed by the accuracy of the assessment.

"Right," she had her phone out and was already tapping a message, "That's utter bollocks. He doesn't want to hand over files because he's scared word will leak and Fortress will lose market share. The security breach has already rendered privacy a null issue, the data has been compromised and we're all just going to have to put on our big boots and deal with it. My assistant will pull everything together and have it ready for you before closing tonight."

"Thank you," Rossi said sincerely. This interview had been wildly more productive than he'd hoped. Yet something was nagging at the back of his mind,

"You said _you_ do the hiring?" he finally caught the thought that had been trying to get his attention.

"All the major hires; department heads, trainers, audit teams and such. There are a few bootnecks that have been with me from the start and I trust them to hire the rest and make recommendations but I like to keep a close eye on the most important jobs."

"'From the start.' Miss Rochester, did you found Fortress?" Rossi finally vocalized his suspicion. There was a flash of panic in the woman's eyes at the statement. She hadn't expected him to catch the tiny hint to a larger truth. The panic segued to regret and then just as quickly to embarrassment. She hadn't wanted this known.

"I did. I mustered out after 10 years and a lot of my unit were getting their discharge at the same time. They were good blokes and knew the ins and outs of blowing shit up just as well as keeping it safe. We decided to put our heads together for the private sector and Fortress was born."

_'__Born.' And you protect it like a child._ Rossi nodded, understanding more than the female Rochester might have intended. How far would a mother go to protect her own? Where might she perceive the threat?

* * *

_Please keep up reviewing, it helps me know whether the story is flowing or if I'm hitting bumps. _


	17. Marriage

**Chapter Seventeen**

**Marriage**

"It is not a lack of love, but a lack of friendship that makes unhappy marriages."

-Friedrich Nietzsche

_"__What did you find out?" _Hotchner's voice over the speaker phone echoed in the interior of the SUV.

"More than we expected." Rossi allowed himself a smirk of satisfaction. He and JJ filled in the team on the other end of the phone, interrupted frequently by Morgan or Reid with questions.

"_Hookers and drugs and a wealthy playboy. We might have found the origin of our killing pattern."_ Kate finally concluded when Rossi was done describing everything he'd gleaned from the two Rochester women.

"Not only is his current lifestyle filled with dirt, his wife told me that Arthur was discharged from the marines for misconduct." JJ added. The twins obviously had opposite personalities, since Alex had apparently been recruited to UKSF before mustering out. They played the same sports, went to the same University, enlisted to the same military branch (two years apart – a discrepancy JJ still wanted information about) and ended up in the same business. For two personalities so different, they seemed determined to mirror each other. Sibling rivalry? Or simply the undividable bond of twins?

_"__We're going to want to look at his record." _Morgan was obviously speaking to their resident tech goddess.

"While we're giving Garcia work: we also need to track his global travels. He might be connected to our victims by more than Fortress." Rossi suggested.

_"__Abracadabring it on!"_ Penelope's disembodied voice still conveyed the excited arrogance of her hacking ego.

"Alex Rochester wasn't exaggerating about getting us all the files we requested. Couriers have already begun arriving from Fortress." Reid was excitedly rustling through papers like he'd been given an early Christmas present.

"You guys get started. We'll be there in about half an hour." Rossi had a feeling it was going to be a very long night.

The phone turned off and both profilers slid into a meditative silence. Each had conversations and clues and facts to ponder and fit in with the rest of their information. Every telling shift in tone, glance of the eyes and twitch of the fingers had to be dissected for hints of thoughts underneath.

"Do you have any sisters-in-law, JJ?" Rossi finally broke the stillness. The blonde knew this wasn't an idle inquiry for the sake of conversation.

"I do. My brother's wife. They have a daughter that's – god; I think she's going to be sixteen this year." JJ cringed at the thought of the small girl she'd loved playing soccer with now being a full blown car-driving, hell-raising, boy-chasing, high school sophomore.

"Are you two close?" Rossi continued in his own train of thought. He was teasing at a fact that puzzled him, something he'd heard or seen that didn't sit right and he was trying to find the correct perspective. JJ had never been asked to evaluate her relationship to her brother's wife. It took some concentration to even pull up a mental image of the quiet East Allegheny housewife.

"I like her, of course. We all see each other for some of the holidays when I get back home and she's great with Henry. I wouldn't say she's any different to one of my cousins." _And I have a LOT of cousins. I'm not close to any of them. I haven't been close to my family since . . ._Her breath hitched the way it always did when the thought of Rosaline came unbidden into her mind.

"Would you drop everything to go keep her company during a pregnancy?"

"No. I didn't even drop everything for my _own_ pregnancy, Dave." JJ snorted. She could remember Will's constant fussing and fretting; trying to convince her to take it easy, to not go into work, to take leave sooner.

"So, why do you suppose Alex Rochester is the one at Kara's bedside instead of her husband?" Rossi pondered. His own experience with in-laws was that they made decent friends but fantastic enemies. Nobody could hold a grudge like two intermarried Italian families.

"Kara told me she met Alex in University, she was studying overseas at Oxford. I'm guessing her introduction and marriage to Arthur came later. " JJ was careful to express only the facts she'd been told. She'd seen enough in Kara's expression to form some assumptions but she couldn't substantiate them yet. The simplest of thoughts began with: they have a bad marriage. It only got more complicated from there.

"I think Kara knows he's cheating on her. Maybe she doesn't know the frequency or extent but she definitely has a fixation on adultery." Rossi voiced the very thoughts JJ had been wrestling.

"It could be that Alex is compensating for her Arthur's failings. She might feel guilty for introducing her friend to her brother and having him turn out to be such a poor husband." JJ had seen that much as Kara might chafe at Alex's nagging and protectiveness, the military woman defined a massive part of her friend's life. Possibly the entire part Arthur failed to fill.

"Yeah, I guess marriage is hard for everyone. I thought it was just me." Rossi chuckled, putting the subject of the Rochesters aside.

"Definitely not just you, Dave," JJ smirked as well, shaking her head, "But it does seem like the BAU makes it harder. Why is that?"

"Are you asking for theory or experience?" Rossi darted a glance to the blonde, barely taking his eyes from the road but noting the far away sadness in her eyes. There had been so much more of that lately.

"Both. Either." JJ shrugged helplessly. In the last few years he'd seen a constant undercurrent of pain in the eternally upbeat JJ. It was as if those sparkling azure eyes occasionally turned to nothing more than black and blue with the bruises of her psyche.

"You're a profiler, Jareau. You tell me your theory and I'll tell what I experienced." Rossi suggested, knowing that if JJ could talk about theories, third parties and concepts she wouldn't feel cornered into confessing about her own life.

"There are the obvious problems: BAU has an unpredictable schedule but makes constant demands on everyone's time. Plans are always getting canceled because a case comes up. Friends and family get left behind as we jet off to some remote hell hole to track another killer. Then there's what we have to do: getting inside the minds of these monsters. We spend so much time in dark and twisted places of the psyche. Other people can't understand that sometimes those monsters keep hold of us and even when we want to be happy and have fun we have them in our heads," JJ sighed, rubbing at the bridge of her nose to silence the evils she'd been forced to carry in her mind, "Worst of it all is what we see. We see criminals and evil to a degree that I don't even want to admit exists in this world. We don't want to terrify the ones we love so we keep it all inside. Each case, each horror becomes a small, secret burden we have to carry and they pile up and wall us in until it's impossible to relate to others who haven't seen the same."

Rossi was quiet for some minutes, thinking over everything JJ said. There was a distance in how she spoke but every statement carried the intimate wound of experience. He wanted to tell her that the she didn't have to keep carrying the cases; that was what the bureau had shrinks for, that's what friends were for. But he knew it didn't matter. Work always stayed with you. The hard cases changed you. The worst cases changed your whole life.

"For me it was dinner time." He finally voiced his perspective.

"What?" JJ looked up at him in surprise, waiting for the punch line of the joke. Rossi just smiled, continuing,

"Dinner time. Always started the worst fights. My last wife, you see, was an amazing cook and she got fed up with her dinners getting ruined from sitting all night in the microwave or oven. She couldn't understand how staying late at work to track a psycho was more important than fresh penne arrabiata. It was that whole work/life balance. I didn't have it. For me work was everything and anything else was nothing." He elaborated, vividly recalling a night he came back from the bureau at 3 am and found his wife waiting for him. He'd ended up _wearing_ the manicotti.

"It's not nothing; it's just that some things are more important," JJ continued his thought, "I had to call Henry on his first day of preschool to wish him luck and promise everything was going to be great. We were in Kansas looking for that kidnapped girl? We found her alive. To me, that made being away worth it but Will really didn't agree. He said the BAU had six agents but Henry only had one mother."

Rossi catalogued the guilt, regret and resentment in her tone. None of them were stronger than the conviction in her words when she said the rescue was worth it. Her devotion to the job was never a question. She was simply like him, unable to balance that passion with the other demands of her life.

"Times like that can be tough. You and Will have worked hard for what you have. Almost seven years together now, right? That's longer than my last two marriages combined. You guys have made it work."

_So far._ The words hung unspoken between them both.

"Hotch and Haley were together longer than that. Since High School. I've no idea how they did it." JJ wondered. She'd been just as amazed by the loving solidarity of their team leader's marriage as she had been shocked and devastated to see it fall apart. Hotch had two driving passions in his life and he simply refused to give up either one until the decision was taken out of his hands. Even when Haley was gone, she and Jack continued to be the only things in the world he cared about beyond work.

"That's true but Hotch only joined the BAU in '98. Things were different after that. Even more so when Jack was born. Sometimes things change so much they can never go back to the way they were before." Rossi shook his head. He remembered Aaron as a young man, still just as stoic and driven. Back then he'd had a plan, goals; a picture in his head that he wanted to make real for himself and his wife. Jack had been in that picture from early on (by a number of undecided names) but not even Hotchner could've predicted how much finally having him would change everything.

"Maybe they shouldn't," JJ responded quietly, "Change back."

Rossi heard the faint hints of will and resolve in the softly spoken words. Whatever had changed in JJ's life (and there was certainly a lot) she was working to reconcile the reality of the present with the memory of the past. Somewhere between those two she would find her plan for the future.

* * *

JJ eased herself onto one of the bar stools in the hotel restaurant. Penelope had opted to join her for a few minutes away from the headaches of the conference room. It was already 7pm and that many hours locked in a single room with the team was more than Garcia had ever experienced of the BAU's intense work dynamic.

"How're you holding up?" JJ asked, pouring her sparkling water into a glass and wishing yet again that she could just have a beer.

"Ugh, I need so many kittens. I might make you take me to the annual cat video festival after this." Garcia groaned. She missed her lair and the comforting detachment that went with being in a room far removed from the team and its cases. The walls of the conference room were covered with images of carnage that the geek goddess simply knew would be haunting her sleep for months.

"Anything for you, Pen." JJ grinned, bumping her shoulder against the analyst's, earning a returned smile. The easy camaraderie reminded Penelope of her thoughts on the flight. She'd been waiting all afternoon for a chance to talk to JJ alone but between the case interviews and then everyone profiling together, there hadn't been a single opportunity to slip her away.

Now they were alone together. Emily had been too absorbed in her own notes to be lured away, even by JJ's infamous pout. Prentiss did, however, toss JJ a wink at the door just before she left. No one besides Garcia could've seen it or the smile that burst across the blonde's face in response.

Penelope's rapidly spinning mind hadn't yet come up with a way to broach the conversation they needed to have. Examining her best friend, Garcia felt an overwhelming sigh of frustration and sadness. If JJ had gone this long without accepting the nature of her relationship with Emily it was going to take something severe to wake her up. But telling any of Emily's secrets wasn't Garcia's place. She had to work from JJ's side of things.

_Which might prove to be easier than I thought._ Penelope noticed JJ's fingers distractedly picking at the label on the water bottle, worrying all the edges in an effort to peel it off smoothly.

"You know, I thought that sort of thing was what you profilers called a tell," Garcia arched a teasing brow at the shredded label, "Feeling a bit _frustrated,_ JJ?"

"Oh please, Pen. That's an old wives' tale." JJ rolled her eyes but still deliberately set down the water bottle.

"So chewing ice and peeling labels doesn't mean you're sexually frustrated?" Garcia continued to bait playfully. This was exactly the sort of suggestive teasing conversation they would have any night in a bar. The fact that Penelope had a hidden agenda only made it more fun.

"No. Fidgeting fingers just mean I'm stressed out." Jareau easily explained the tell; perhaps not realizing what she was still giving away about herself. _Uh huh. And that maybe those fingers want to be doing something else? You're itching, sugar._

"Well, I can't think of anything more stressful than not getting any." Penelope gave her a wicked smirk before sipping her own water.

"Come on, Pen." JJ laughed at the direction the conversation was taking. They hadn't even been drinking!

"Huh-uh, my sugar sweet sunflower. You radiate a lack of _satisfaction_," Garcia put extra purr into the word, "When was the last time you got some?"

JJ cast her gaze heavenward, praying for help in dealing with her crazy comrade. Then she set her drink down and turned on the bar stool to face her interrogator squarely.

"A week ago Sunday." She stated clearly without any hesitation or twitch, hoping that would be the end of the conversation.

"When was the last time you enjoyed it?" Garcia didn't even bat an eye. JJ's iron expression completely crumbled into a flush as she gaped at the question.

"That's not fair, Pen," JJ struggled to object, turning back to the bar to seek solace in her glass of water, _really _wishing it was something stronger, "You know how difficult it can be sometimes to let go, to just be in the moment and enjoy it."

"Sure, but I don't have a lean machine of sexy Cajun whispering French in my ear." Penelope's evil grin grew wider, watching a four alarm fire blush over JJ's cheeks

"It's not French." JJ grumbled the contradiction, her shoulders rolling slightly in discomfort.

"Pardon?" Garcia leaned closer, dramatically cupping a hand to her ear to capture the mumbled response.

"He doesn't speak French. It's creole. It's different." JJ clarified more loudly and her irritation brought her eyes back to Penelope. The cobalt blue was absolutely electrified. _My my. Touched a nerve, did we?_

"Ah. So it isn't the same French that, say, I would speak," Penelope allowed herself a lingering pause, "Or Emily."

"No, it isn't." JJ's poker face wouldn't budge. Garcia could see hints of agitation in the twitch of her fingers around her glass. There was embarrassment still lingering in the pink on her cheeks. Her dominant expression, however, was defiant. She wasn't apologizing for anything she'd said. She certainly wasn't going to pretend that the reality she'd exposed was her fault in any way.

_You can be getting laid and still be frustrated._ Garcia sipped her water, giving herself a moment to steel her resolve for the next tactic.

"Do you ever imagine someone else?" she set her glass down, carefully keeping her face trained ahead so as not to let her eyes betray her suspicions.

"What?! Pen! Are we back to that stupid cheating thing again?!" JJ was getting just angry enough to be defensive. She was trying to keep it under control but Garcia could tell she was getting closer to something important. _Not to mention she answered a question with a question. Totally trying to avoid having to answer._

"'Course not, J. I'm just voicing my own kinky curiosities," Penelope made a point of licking her lips lasciviously, "So be honest: those times when you're having so much trouble getting into the moment, do you ever imagine it's someone else whispering in your ear? Maybe someone who speaks proper French?"

"Penelope, I love you and I know you have an intensely sensual side to all your relationships so please, don't be hurt," JJ was smirking playfully as she took Garcia's hand, "But I don't fantasize about sex with you."

"Ha! I wouldn't have time to enter your dreams, precious, I'm over booked in Morgan's imagination as it is." The tech laughed back. She was careful to mask her disappointment at JJ's skillful deflection. There was no hope of getting any closer to the unspoken desire flashing in the blonde agent's eyes; she'd effectively shattered the intensity of the conversation and if Garcia tried to push she knew JJ would figure out her agenda.

Still, she awarded herself two victory points. One for knowing JJ was unhappy in her sex life. The other for clearly seeing a ripple of desire shiver through the lithe woman at the thought of Emily's voice whispering French. Perhaps she'd succeeded in pushing that subconscious longing a teensy bit closer to the edge of her awareness.

* * *

JJ and Penelope returned to the conference room only to find boxes of take away freshly arrived. Everyone was juggling files, pens, chopsticks and containers of noodles. Except Reid, of course.

"Reid, that's the third time you've bitten your pen instead of your food." Morgan laughed, watching the savant's consternation as he once again realized he'd gone for the wrong hand.

"That's what happens when you don't take your eyes off the page. He'd probably starve in front of a TV." Emily laughed. JJ, sitting beside the brunette, felt an unexpected shiver down her spine at the sound. _What the hell?_ She shook herself slightly. Emily Prentiss' voice was one of a kind. The dulcet, throaty tone was equal parts comfort and seduction. Like a midnight lullaby combined with a lover's request. Jennifer Jareau had always known this, so why was it that now she felt like she'd never truly heard it before?

_Dammit, Penelope._ She clenched her jaw, knowing that somehow her friend had managed to plant a mind worm that was eating its way through her thoughts. _"Someone who speaks proper French," _echoed in her head. Emily's French wasn't just proper, it was perfect.

_"Quel jour sommes-nous  
Nous sommes tous les jours  
Mon amie  
Nous sommes toute la vie  
Mon amour" _

The words still lingered in her mind. It had been shortly after Emily returned to London and JJ couldn't sleep at night. Emily had taken to reading to her to help her sleep and chose a book of French poetry. Most nights, Emily translated the poems. But some of them . . . some of them she read in their original language and refused to translate. She said the idea, the beauty would be lost.

_"Nous nous aimons et nous vivons  
Nous vivons et nous nous aimons"_

JJ still didn't know the poet, the poem or any of what it conveyed except by the excruciating tenderness in Emily's voice as she'd read the words. The words meant something. Not just as a poem but something personal. They meant something to Emily and JJ had cherished them and begged to be read the same poem repeatedly, trying to divine the secret.

"_Et nous ne savons pas ce que c'est que la vie  
Et nous ne savons pas ce que c'est que le jour  
Et nous ne savons pas ce que c'est que l'amour." _

Now, sitting beside the brunette at the table, her every nerve electrified and her skin on fire, JJ once again felt as she had when she first let the words wash over her. She felt a tantalizing truth was being dangled just beyond her comprehension. What had Emily been sharing in those words? Or was it something she concealed?

* * *

_The poem is 'Chanson' by Jacques Prevert. If you liked/hated/stomached the chapter please let me know. Feedback is helping me stay focused.  
_


	18. Triggered pt1

_This is a refinement of what I posted before. Mostly consistent but with a correction in the dynamic between JJ and Emily. There's also an additional case scene at the end so if you don't want to deal with repeat facts you can skip to the end._

* * *

**Chapter Eighteen**

**Triggered**

**"**Ideas pull the trigger but instinct loads the gun."

-Don Marquis

_Every inch of JJ's skin was on fire, her overheated body writhing in the bed sheets as she grasped for purchase. Her fingers clawed the linen but couldn't find leverage to support her tensing muscles. _

_"Si belle, mon amour." The words were no more than a hoarse rasp of desire in her ear._

_"Please!" JJ groaned, feeling fingers glide teasingly over her shoulders; they drew a perfect line down her throat, between her breasts, trailing to her navel before skimming away along the edge of her remaining clothing. When was the last time she'd been this on fire? Will was never this agonizingly slow. He never devoted whole minutes to every inch of her skin until she was positively glowing everywhere his fingers brushed. She felt she could explode at any minute and was being mindlessly tortured by every second of delay between herself and the touch she craved._

_"Nous ne pouvons pas précipiter la perfection." There was a throaty laugh following the teasing comment but JJ felt the relief of the last of her clothing being stripped away. The cool night air breezing over her skin raised goose bumps that echoed the shivers already running through her body. Then there was the caressing heat of a body against hers, miles of smooth warmth enveloping her and she moaned, catching hold of her lover and holding tight. She could feel every breath against her neck, the vibration of a heartbeat pounding as fast as her own, the feather light glide of lips along her throat. It was achingly, perfectly, hypnotically overwhelming. She could happily lose herself forever in this moment of time. Except it wasn't enough. She couldn't tell where her skin ended and her lover's began but she only knew she couldn't get close enough._

_"Stop teasing," JJ begged with a low growl, "I need more."_

_"Tout ce que vous voulez, mon coeur." To prove the promise, the hand that had been tracing torturous patterns around her navel finally slipped lower. JJ's whole body was tight with need, electricity arcing from her every finger and toe, muscles twitching with each touch that brought her closer to relief. She was poised on the edge, so close. . ._

_"Look at me." The command in English forced her eyes open and she stared up into the glistening black of Emily's eyes. Even driven crazy with desire she found herself mesmerized by how much she could see in that perfect obsidian gaze. If she stared long enough she could feel herself falling into the depths of Emily's emotions; swallowed up completely by adoration and longing, consumed by hunger. Once JJ's eyes found that lifeline she couldn't tear them away, only continue to stare as Emily leaned close and kissed her._

_"Je t'ai aimé jusqu'a atteindre la folie, Jennifer." The tender confession was breathed directly against her lips and JJ swallowed the emotion, lifting up to capture Emily's mouth and reply._

JJ woke with her fingers tangled, white knuckled, gripping the sheets. Her heart was hammering loud in her chest and ears but nothing could drown out the echo of the words in her mind. Nor could the coldness of the empty bed sheets take the edge off the heat that had enveloped her entire body.

_That was . . ._ JJ stared up at the ceiling of her hotel room, trying to think of a word, licking her parched lips that were still tingling from a phantom kiss. _Well, that was something!_ She swiped the strands of sweaty hair away from her face. The small town girl part of her brain wanted to be embarrassed or feel guilty about the dream but couldn't make its mousy voice heard. Overwhelming it by far was the practical FBI profiler who couldn't remember the last time so intense an ache of need had twisted in her stomach. If she'd just been able to stay asleep a little longer!

She rolled to the side of the bed, burrowing into the pillow and wondering if she could force herself back to sleep, back to those amazingly tender caresses. She conjured the image of Emily's eyes as she'd seen them, black as always but burning with need. The knot of desire in her stomach doubled and spread clear down to her toes. _Definitely not going to be able to sleep._ JJ realized her body was far too wound up. _Where did that come from?_ She wondered at the sheer intensity of the want. She had a pretty good idea as to the answer.

The clock told her the alarm was going to go off in ten minutes anyway; might as well get up. She huffed and rose resentfully. _Damn Penelope. Damn her and her 'frustration' talk._ She stalked into the bathroom, flinging her clothes onto the counter. _She has NO idea what real frustration is. _She stomped into the shower and turned on an icy cold blast of water that actually hurt when it hit her fevered skin. _She doesn't know what it's like to be in agony, tortured by relief you can't reach._ The goose bumps gradually faded from her flesh as she began to vigorously scrub every inch. _How long has it been?_ She sighed, leaning her forehead against the shower wall and letting the coolness dispel the anger in her thoughts. _Too damn long._

_'Si belle.'_ The words made her shiver again. Will had said them many times but never had they provoked such a visceral reaction as when she'd heard them on Emily's lips in the dream. Had she ever heard Emily actually say the phrase? Had her imagination simply invented it? Had she fabricated from thin air the magnetic power of those feather light touches? Unconsciously, JJ ran the soap along her shoulder, following the same ghostly trail that dream fingers had blazed. _It seemed SO real._ She shuddered, vividly recalling the smell of sweat laced with a familiar scent of Clive Christian perfume.

She couldn't have imagined those eyes. Emily's gaze was too complex, too full of speechless words for JJ to invent. Everything else might have been the fever dream of an over-driven, under-satisfied libido but not the eyes. _Those were _her_ eyes._ She saw it so clearly; the black pools of emotion that had threatened to devour them both.

All at once the shower didn't feel cold anymore and JJ realized the water wasn't the only thing making her slick. _Damn it, JJ! _She growled, shutting off the water and angrily grabbing her clothes. She'd forgotten to grab underwear. _And damn you, Penelope!_ She continued to rant at herself, wrapping up in a towel. She stormed out of the bathroom to fetch her underwear. _And damn, damn, damn YOU, - _

"Emily!" her trail of thought found sudden release when a figure in her room turned to face her. Emily was standing in the middle of the hotel room, Starbucks cup in one hand, phone in the other and when she looked up from the phone to JJ her mouth dropped open. It took several attempts for her to find words.

"JJ, sorry. I'm early. I just -," she fumbled the phone back into her pocket, "You said to bring you coffee."

The brunette agent grabbed a second cup from where she'd left it on the table, holding it out like a shield and peace offering at once. JJ vaguely recalled making the sleepy request as they walked from the conference room back to their relative beds and slipping her the spare room key. This morning, looking at the state of the room after her chaotic night, she realized that might have been a mistake. The bed looked like a war had been fought from one edge to the other. Was that her scent lingering in the air? Maybe it was only her imagination.

JJ approached, noticing that Emily had her eyes averted downward; as close to a blush as she ever saw on the ever composed agent. _Is she sparing me? Avoiding seeing something awkward?_ JJ suddenly wondered if Emily couldn't see the night's dream playing behind her eyes. She felt like it had to be radiating out of her pores. (It never occurred to her that Emily might be trying to conceal dreams of her own.)

The closer she drew to Emily the louder screamed two nearly simultaneous impulses. _Closer._ The first kept pulling up the taste of raven hair when she'd breathed it in, the warm shivers of every touch. _Don't!_ The reply was almost instantaneous, urging her to double her distance, to fend off the base desire.

Desperate to break the stillness that felt like a dozen hours (Only 47 seconds) JJ took hold of the coffee. Her fingers were laced around Emily's on the cup and the touch infused her with fresh bravado. This was Emily. They'd always been comfortable with each other. Nothing was different.

"My hero." She smiled and stepped in closer, invading the other agent's space barely long enough to brush a grateful kiss against her cheek. _Bad idea._ The taste of Emily's skin conjured the recollection of trying to capture her lips; reaching up, desperate to express pent up emotions and longing that had been unable to find release. Was the hitch in Emily's breathing a response or just her own projection? JJ exhaled a trembling breath, knowing she had to force herself to back away. _Now, Jennifer!_ Before any more impulsive decisions circumvented her frontal lobe.

She stepped back, her trademark smile firmly in place as she scanned Emily's face for a reaction. The older agent had reverted to safety mode, a total dead pan. Except . . . _There they are. Those are the eyes._ JJ's smile twitched wider in excited surprise. That was where she'd seen that piece of her dream before.

"We're," Emily cleared her throat, forcing her mouth to work, "We're due in the conference room in 20. Want me to wait for you?"

"Please." JJ nodded with a broad smile, sipping her coffee and going to her bag for undergarments. As she rummaged through the clothes and found the pair she wanted she allowed herself a glance up through the strands of her hair. Emily was standing in profile in front of the window, sipping her tea and staring so hard at the cup it might catch fire. _Please._ She repeated mentally. _At least until I figure all of this out._

* * *

Walking into the conference room fifteen minutes later JJ felt like she had managed to push aside the last of the haunting aspects of the dream. She wanted to dismiss the whole thing as a combination of subliminal suggestion (Garcia), internal frustration (herself) and a too damn beautiful friend (Emily). That line of rationalization worked up until she walked through a door Prentiss was holding open and caught another whiff of that ethereal perfume scent. Then she was caught in bed sheets again, a stronger body not holding her down but cradling her close.

The heat of Emily's hand on the small of her back nudging her towards two free chairs didn't help. Through a blouse and blazer she still could make out every individual fingertip. _This is ridiculous. _JJ numbly folded into the chair, wondering when her entire body had decided to wage war against her. _This cannot happen. It isn't fair to Emily._ JJ unconsciously scooted a little further away at the table, giving herself breathing room. She caught Emily's curious glance and thought better of it. _That isn't fair either. It isn't her fault. _Nothing was worth hurting their relationship.

"Our UnSub. What do we know for sure?" Hotch asked as soon as everyone was settled.

"He has a military background giving him familiarity with penetration tactics and demolitions." Kate stated unequivocally.

"All the identified VIPs went missing from public locations; charity auctions, political fundraisers, diplomatic balls and the like. He must be educated and high class enough to move comfortably around such social circles without being identified as an imposter." Emily added. She'd attended enough dignitary social functions to know just how quickly the political sharks could spot anyone that didn't belong and then they were nothing more than chum in the water.

"How is he getting all these different people to the kill site?" Hotch pushed the theories in a different direction.

JJ was forcing herself to focus on their leader at the head of the table. She didn't dare to even glance at Emily's profile in her periphery. She didn't trust herself, not right now. She wasn't entirely sure what she was afraid of but she knew the war of impulses raging across her senses had to be controlled. _Farther away. Can't breathe. Can't think. More space. _She held her body in steely postured resolve. She wasn't going to let barely conscious instincts give away her inner struggle. Not in a room full of profilers and certainly not in front of Emily. _Closer. That smell, it's right there. So close; can almost feel the heat._ She also wasn't about to let a wet dream and the resulting hormonal cacophony interfere with her job.

"Money." JJ began with the most fundamental requirement. Prostitutes wouldn't leave with anyone that couldn't pay.

"Charm." Morgan added. Middle class white collar workers might be impressed by a roll of cash but they'd need extra motivation. The UnSub had to be capable of socializing with them and building trust.

"Information." Reid contributed the final piece. Being rich and charming might be enough to get their UnSub into the same places as the VIP victims but from there it would take something far more important than social skills. To convince a billionaire to leave his bodyguards? He would have to want whatever was about to happen to be kept secret from everyone. Against such men blackmail was more deadly than a bullet.

"Good." Hotch nodded, writing down the characteristics on the white board.

"Language," Emily announced the thought she'd been trying to harness, "He has to make people from all walks of life feel comfortable. That's hard to do in a foreign tongue or broken dialect. He's a polyglot."

"She's right," Reid echoed, fussing through his papers, "All the attack countries can be grouped by native language. French, German, English, Spanish, Portuguese – Europe, South America, Africa; he sticks to countries in these language families so he can move easily through any walk of life."

"Alright. Military could be any employee at Fortress. Garcia, run a cross-check. Look for employees that also speak multiple languages and went to university or at least come from an educated enough background to pass in high society."

"Your wish is my command, sahib." Garcia was already setting fire to her keyboard with the speed of her fingers.

"What is the UnSub's motivation? I mean, he goes to tremendously elaborate effort for each killing cycle but then goes dormant for unpredictable periods." Kate was gazing at the timeline they'd mapped on the far wall. The starts and stops were more erratic than a car with a bad transmission. Some attacks happened week after week, others had months in between.

"He could be stalking Arthur; destroying people that he thinks are connected to him." Morgan ventured. Hookers, druggies and peers; the UnSub was certainly willing to go to great lengths to circle around Rochester from all sides.

"On the other hand it could be someone covering for Arthur, making sure no one can expose his crimes and damage the company image." Rossi hadn't been able to get the conversation with Alex Rochester out of his head. She had hundreds of elite fighters and mercenaries in her employ, any of them could be given an 'off the record' assignment.

"That wouldn't explain the VIPs." Emily shook her head.

"If we knew more about the deaths, how the victims were being killed, we could get a clearer picture of the UnSub's emotions." Reid voiced the frustration they were all feeling. The BAU were trained to read rage, hatred, obsession; they had been sifting through the evidence of over a dozen bombed buildings but no trace of emotion lingered in the ash.

"We're sure it isn't Arthur himself? He has access to the security data, the victims and the locations." JJ hadn't met the CEO but from what she'd gathered from his family and the other profilers he certainly sounded crazy and egomaniacal enough.

"He's too impulsive. The drugs would make him disorganized. His military record of misconduct shows poor discipline. The only way he could be involved is with a partner." Reid shook his head. No one ever doubted his read on a suspect.

"There are too many options right now without more evidence. Whatever the motive, I think we can agree that Arthur's international vices are part of the stressor formula." Hotch shook his head.

"So who gets stressed when Arthur travels?" Morgan asked, partially intending the question to be rhetorical.

"Oh! Oh! I think I have the answer to that!" Garcia waved her hand enthusiastically in the air, "My cross check of Fortress presence in attack cities? I found that only three representatives were consistently present in _every_ city the week of a bombing. Alex and Arthur Rochester –,"

"She did say that Arthur joins her for the big cases." Rossi acknowledged. It only made sense that if Arthur was somewhere abroad, Alex had to be as well.

"AND," Garcia shot a glare at Rossi, "A former British marine by the name of Nigel Courtenay. He's currently employed by Fortress as Arthur Rochester's personal bodyguard."

"Time to question Arthur again." Hotch resolved, nodding to the team to assume their duties.

* * *

Whatever Hotchner's experience with Fortress had been, Rossi and Morgan found nothing but resistance and open hostility from the first floor up. It was almost 70 minutes of arguments, phone calls, identification challenges and generally every other kind of 'whip them out and measure' dicking around possible.

Now, on the top floor of the building and having been stuck in professional etiquette limbo for almost half an hour Rossi was losing patience.

"Look, sweetheart," he approached the receptionist, filled with nothing short of condescension and bile, "Either Rochester opens that office door in the next 60 seconds or in 90 he's ordering a new one."

It was a rare display of aggressiveness for the BAU but there was no other option. The assistant was stone walling and there had been the sounds of shouting voices from inside the office for as long as he and Morgan had been outside.

"He – I – they -," the assistant was about to go into hysterics that might damage her last botox treatment.

"Just. Open. The. Door." Rossi repeated the request with quiet deliberateness. The girl gulped back a few tears and rushed to the office, fumbling with her key before swinging the double doors wide open.

The invasion had no impact on the room's occupants. They were completely involved in their own world. A world of hostility, accusation, guilt and resentment. A loud world.

"You gave them the files! The board is going to have _my _head and your hide!" Arthur was almost purple in the face, hair standing on end from having raked it with his fingers too many times. He had the look of a man ready to start putting decorative weapons to practical use.

"They would've gotten them anyway! The board can't fight government interdict and it still wouldn't matter because the data is already gone! It's out there! What are we supposed to do? Tell the feds to go get it off the dark net like everyone else can?!" Alex stood toe to toe with her brother. _Nose to nose as well._

High heeled shoes brought Alex Rochester to her brother's exact height and it was a war of equals. Rossi was moderately surprised to see her in feminine business attire; nylon wrapped legs running up to the short black skirt. He would've bet a thousand dollars that she was a pants-suit militant but here she carried professionalism in a seductive, ladylike package. Rossi glanced at Morgan and noted that the younger agent was making the same assessment with a similarly impressed conclusion. _Right. Better if he takes Arthur._

"This is _exactly _why the board didn't trust you! You refuse to play by their rules!" Arthur's accusation was full of gloating judgment. He cared more about his sister's failure than the success of the company he headed. He was a man standing at the top of a sinking ship yelling that he'd been right about the iceberg.

"The board doesn't have rules! They have a system of back room deals, insider trading and kick-backs that would make cartels blush!" Alex shot back, "And you're just their damn puppet!"

"You –!" Arthur started to take a swing at his sister but Morgan was across the floor in an instant, catching the blow and twisting his arm away. Rossi leapt in as well, leading Alex to a safer distance. He couldn't help but wonder what would've happened if they weren't there. Alexandra hadn't flinched. Would she have taken the blow? Or would she have defended herself even more violently than Morgan?

"Mr. Rochester, please. We've been looking more closely at the bombings and there may be a connection to Fortress employees." Morgan patiently worked the CEO's attention onto the issue at hand. He spoke with quiet control, projecting calm into a room that desperately needed it.

"Right, right, I'm sure all the federal government cares about is protecting Fortress." Arthur rolled his eyes but did his best to straighten his ruffled appearance.

"Arthur, for once would you shut your mouth and think?!" Alex yelled from across the office where Rossi had sequestered her. Arthur started to respond but Morgan and Rossi interceded at the same time, forcing both siblings to focus. The family argument brought up too much emotion and obscured other tells the profilers needed. Dave was whispering to Alex, convincing her to let Morgan do his job. The interrogating agent needed all of the CEO's mind and emotions focused on what he was saying.

"We think, based on the pattern of attacks, that someone is actually tracking you specifically. Someone who knows a great deal about your history, habits and preferences." Morgan continued to keep his voice commanding but relaxed, certain his audience was now fully with him.

"What do you mean? Someone's stalking me?" Arthur finally stopped grooming himself as his attention fixed on the conversation.

"We aren't ruling anything out," Morgan demurred before laying into a rattling sequence of questions, "For now, what can you tell me about your discharge? What was the misconduct?"

"What? How do you -?" Arthur tried to protest but couldn't get a word in edge wise.

"Did you ever meet Philip Schmidt? Did you buy drugs from him?" Morgan kept pressing, watching the agitation build up.

"How dare you -," Arthur was turning purple again.

"Alaina Correli, did you hire her? Was she one of your hook ups in Italy?"

"That's ENOUGH!" the veins on Rochester's face looked like they might explode, "I don't know where you are getting this information but it is slander and I swear to god if you dare publicize even a hint of these lies I will sue your entire government!"

"Arthur!" Alex came rushing over, trying to silence her brother before he made the situation unsalvageable.

"Bloody hell! I'll do more than that! I have men that spent their lives assassinating government targets. I'll make you disappear! One word is all it takes! You hear me?! You'll NEVER have EXISTED!" the spittle gathering in the corners of his mouth was indication enough of the sheer level of mad passion gripping the formerly composed businessman.

"Arthur! Shut the hell up!" Alex grabbed her brother and slapped him across the face. Not a traditional, ladylike palm; she backhanded him like a furious parent. The sound echoed in the stillness of the room. Arthur gingerly touched his cheek along the stinging red mark. His eyes snapped livid indignation at all of them, particularly his sister.

"I have a dinner in Philadelphia. I'm going now." He spat, scowling at all three of them in turn before storming from the room. The thundering slam of the door caused a few of the weapon display cases to fall off the walls and shatter.

"Are you alright?" Rossi gently laid a hand on Alex's shoulder. She was shaking.

"I'm fine. I'm sorry, he didn't - Arthur doesn't really respond well to stress." she smiled apologetically. The expression didn't reach her eyes. Her eyes were perfect mirrors to her brother; windows to a burning rage within. She simply controlled it better than her brother but Rossi could feel through his light touch that she was trembling in fury.

"So it would seem." Rossi agreed neutrally. Morgan had needed to push Rochester to the breaking point to see what happened. They certainly had their answer.

"I know it seems like he overreacted but there are a lot of people that would like to hurt Fortress. Any of his flaws getting publicized would hurt the company and it's already been a tough couple of years." the tall woman sighed, raking a hand through her long hair like she could pull away the internal squall of anger and worry.

"Oh? How long have things been bumpy?" Morgan joined Rossi now, fortunately more fixated on the case than the attractiveness of the woman in question.

Both men could see as she tucked the anger back into a far corner of her mind, silencing the emotions in order to get on with the job at hand. _Better at masking than I thought._ Rossi realized that in the professional environment her military discipline was more pronounced. At the Rochester home she'd dropped her guard more – she was safe there. She wasn't safe in Fortress.

"Since Arthur was voted CEO. He's had a wild side since we were children. That's why the military wasn't the best fit. The officers said he lacked discipline. He's a little too impulsive. The job only made everything worse. It's a lot of pressure and Arthur doesn't have the background to deal with it or experience handling the sort of employees we need." She sighed and shook her head, salvaging a dagger from a shattered display case and putting it on her brother's desk. _Cleaning up his messes. Again._ Rossi watched the patient resignation to her movements.

"You started the company; and you're more qualified to run it. Why did the board put him in charge?" Rossi began helping her carefully pick the chunks of glass out of the carpet.

"Arthur has the diplomas. I don't. The board is made up of investors, not experts and they simply felt they needed his qualifications. Besides, in this business everyone is more comfortable seeing a man in charge." The comment shot straight past rueful and self-deprecating into the territory of bitterness. It was the deepest, most sincere emotion Rossi had seen her express yet outside of concern for Kara.

"Idiots." Rossi muttered, earning a grateful smile from the woman.

"Alex, we came across a name in the investigation. What can you tell us about Nigel Courtenay?" Morgan gently stepped into the lull of the conversation, changing the direction.

"Arthur's guard? He was a member of Arthur's unit. When he was -," Morgan clearly saw the woman censor herself, "When he left the marines Nigel went along with him. He used to lead an audit team but when Arthur got made CEO we decided Nigel would be the best one to watch him."

_Watch him. Not guard. Not protect. Watch. They needed someone that would keep an eye on her brother._ Rossi doubted it was a decision voted on by the board. Who actually chose Nigel; Alex or Arthur?

"We'd like to speak to him." Morgan had also heard the deliberate ambiguity of Alex's explanation. She was keeping her words factual but her tone betrayed a distaste; either for the man or his role. Whatever her professional relationship to Courtenay, she held deeper opinions that she wasn't sharing. His instincts told him they were all negative.

"He'll be going to Philadelphia with Arthur. If you hurry you might still catch them in the garage." She glanced at her watch.

"No need. We have some associates waiting downstairs anyway." Rossi decided not to mention that they'd brought half the team in case the tactic with questioning Arthur Rochester went seriously south. The profile thus far had dictated that a highly organized and methodical UnSub like this one, on being cornered and stressed would break behavior and react violently. All the planning, all the patterns; they meant a killer that fastidiously controlled all factors and elements to prevent any mistake. Take the situation out of his control and the fear of an error would begin to unravel his façade; start catching mistakes and he'd snap. Arthur's explosive reaction hadn't quite met their expectations but it didn't completely rule him out either.

As they left the office Rossi set up a three way call with the team in the lobby and the portion still at the hotel.

"Courtenay is in the garage. You can probably still catch him." Rossi concluded after giving a quick summary of their findings.

_"We're on it." _Hotch acknowledged.

"Baby girl, you got the Fortress public record in front of you?" Morgan only had one piece of information to add.

_"Right beside the picture of you, hot stuff."_ The fun loving flirt teased.

"When was Arthur Rochester made CEO?" he and Rossi both had a bad feeling they already knew the answer.

_"Omniscience coming your way . . .please hold . . .,"_ they could both hear the machine gun speed of her fingers, _"He was voted into the position 26 months ago. Exactly, oh my! –just 6 weeks before the first building was exploded in Germany."_

"Seems Miss Rochester right. _Someone_ didn't deal well with his new position." Rossi concluded with his trademark deadpan.

* * *

_Mea culpa: I forced the first version of this chapter, focused more on events than on character. I could feel something was wrong and I fought with it and made a bad decision. I both apologize for posting a chapter that didn't meet my own standards and thank you guys or calling me on the b******t. This is why feedback is so damn important._


	19. Triggered pt2

_For once I'm not apologizing for the length of the chapter. I think it's worth it._

* * *

**Chapter Nineteen**

**Triggered**

**(pt. 2)**

"You pull the trigger and after that you do not understand anything that happens."  
-Jean-Paul Sartres

Hotchner and Callahan had no trouble identifying Nigel Courtenay in the Fortress parking garage. He was the only man wearing commando-style black fatigues and barking orders. Around the luxury SUV there were employees and aides scurrying to obey the gunfire commands and Courtenay stood as the eye of the storm, clipboard in hand as he went over the checklist.

"Mr. Courtenay? We're with the FBI." Hotch introduced himself with a flash of his badge. The imposing former marine skimmed the identification with an air of impatient deference. He would yield to their authority but he was going to resent the intrusion. He glanced to the silhouette of Arthur Rochester, already ensconced in the back seat of the vehicle but apparently his employer wasn't going to interfere.

"We have to depart at 1400," he checked his watch, "What do you need?"

"You travel with Arthur Rochester?" Kate noticed that even though their commander was no longer yelling at them all the employees were still scrambling to fulfill their orders. They'd had no choice but to become efficient and disciplined under such a boss.

"As his personal security for two years." Courtenay confirmed. Even as he stood at military attention Hotch could see his eyes repeatedly turning to the clock on the far wall. He was worried about the departure time. Patton's famous military quote was probably this man's mantra._ 'If you're on time, you're already too late.' _Not even the FBI were going to interfere with his schedule.

"What's that like?" Callahan continued to lead the questions, knowing she presented the least threat. That freed Hotchner to simply watch.

"Like?" he seemed puzzled by the question, "It's an assignment. I keep close to the target, secure each new location and watch for potential threats."

_And you hide behind military protocol and jargon to keep from having to give details._ Aaron noted. His tiny nod encouraged Callahan to keep pushing.

"Do drug dealers constitute a threat? Or are they part of your approved network of associates?" Kate pressed. There was a flash of surprise in Courtenay, the first indication that he was out of his depths.

"My job is to keep Mister Rochester secure in his dealings." The demurral was adamant but not honest. Hotchner had seen the flicker of his gaze, so brief it could've been missed in a blink. He'd looked over at a piece of leather luggage monogrammed 'A. Rochester.' Aaron quirked a barely perceptible eyebrow to Kate. _Drugs inside._ Courtenay's job definitely included more than just keeping Arthur safe.

"Of course. Security must be more difficult in foreign countries though. Places where you can't carry in a stash like Arthur needs?" Callahan deliberately looked to the same bag Nigel had given away, "Then you need a reliable local source. Obviously it would be a total breach to just let Arthur go meet a dealer on skid row."

"I don't -," Courtenay started to protest but held his tongue when he saw she wasn't done. _That's some serious control._

"It's much safer to deal with people Fortress knows. People your security records tell you have access to what your boss needs. Isn't that part of your unofficial job description, Mr. Courtenay? To keep Arthur safe? Even from himself? Do you clean up all his messes too?"

For a brief second Hotch thought the man might snap. His jaw was clenching so hard they could hear the grinding of his teeth and though his fists stayed at his sides the knuckles were clenched white.

"Arthur and I have had each other's backs for over ten years," he stated in the trembling tones of a man determined to stay in possession of himself, "He got me this job when that sister of his wouldn't even look at my CV. So yeah, if he wants a hookup? I get him a hookup. He gets in over his head? I'm going to pull him out. He's at the top of his game and I got to come along for the ride and I am not letting a bunch of Yankee Feds or bloody paparazzi or even that bitch of a twin take him down!"

The man took a deep breath. His eyes flickered up to the clock and smug relief pulled the temper back under control.

"It's 1400. Time for us to depart." Without waiting for any further dismissal he turned on his heel and climbed into the fully packed and prepped SUV.

Hotchner and Kate watched two of their leads drive away.

"Remember what Reid said this morning about Rochester being too impulsive and undisciplined to be our UnSub?" Kate recalled the earlier briefing. She could see Aaron's mind was already five steps ahead of her, gears running at top speed.

"Yes, I do. Nigel Courtenay has more than enough discipline for two." Hotch agreed.

* * *

"I hate politics." Emily groaned as she slid into a chair in the bar area of the hotel restaurant. She and Penelope had spent the entire afternoon fighting to get Arthur Rochester and Nigel Courtenay's military records unsealed. It was bad enough that all the British officials greeted their requests with a blend of insult and paranoia that made Stalin's regime seem lax. On top of that the five hour time difference meant every person in the UK that she actually managed to get on the phone was already off duty and resentful that work had encroached on personal time.

"I hate punting." Penelope growled, sitting as well. She'd been trying back doors and short cuts and found that hacking Her Majesty's military databases without detection was a stupidly time consuming headache. With no further progress after 9 pm Hotchner had finally told the team to call it quits. They were over-working the leads, pulling at threads that didn't go anywhere. They'd hit the worst phase of any case: knowing they weren't going to find any more clues until there was another crime. Additionally, she'd been stuck in that dreary conference room for two days without a single flash of personality or color. She'd all but forced JJ and Emily to join her downstairs for the change of scenery she desperately needed.

"I hate protocol." JJ rounded out the complaints. She'd been interfacing with the local PD, trying to keep them informed but not involved. It was a balance that had been hard to strike even in her days as media liaison; now she couldn't remember how she'd ever walked that line. The constant phone calls and questions were pulling her in all directions and all she really wanted to do was get out in the field to find some answers.

In the field she also might have had a chance to clear her head. She'd kept the dream and all its attendant emotional/hormonal chaos successfully at a distance for the most part. There were unexpected moments throughout the day, however, when she'd found herself spontaneously seized by a dizzying circle of reactions.

There would be a sudden, irresistible desire to draw closer to Emily, to capture a touch or scent that could trigger the thrill of her fevered sleep. _She's your best friend. Don't you dare. You'll do something stupid._ The fear would pull her away, pushing her to keep her distance. She had to protect their relationship, even from herself. _It's Emily! She's already been away for so long. Who knows how much longer I can have her? _The guilt would bring her back to the familiar closeness they so easily shared. Never beyond reach but never close enough either. _I've never had her. Not like that._ The painful longing would wrench her breath away and leave a clearly non-physical pain beneath her ribs until the cycle was triggered again.

_Earlier that afternoon:_

_"__You guys, the NYPD Counter-Terrorism Bureau is on the phone asking for a list of the groups we know to have been involved in the attacks." JJ called over to her team mates in the room._

_"__Page 27." Garcia didn't even look up from her screen. At this rate she was so involved in her digital infiltration that she wasn't even blinking. Another 20 minutes and her eyes were going to bleed._

_"__I know. I don't know how to say this one." JJ responded, tapping the paper in front of her. Nothing undermined credibility with an enforcement agency like sounding uninformed. She had to be word perfect. Her time in the Middle East had perfected her pronunciation on everything from Al-Qaeda to __Tehreek-e-Nafaz-e-Shariat-e-Mohammadi__. But the smaller foreign pronunciations were still beyond her phonetic grasp. Why couldn't they just want a fax?_

_"__Which?" Emily came over, leaning closer to see the page. She rested her hand on JJ's shoulder to get a better look. _

_"__L'Oeuvre Francaise. They were _just_ dissolved." Emily shook her head, her accent full of delicate roundness and a perfect purr. _Mon Coeur. Je t'ai aime. _JJ had forgotten the words but now they whispered into her ear. _Strands of raven hair brushed her face. The sound of Emily's breathing was the only thing louder than her own heartbeat._ Now the innocuous weight of Emily's hand on her shoulder reminded her of so much more. _Hand. Gripping her shoulder. Nails digging in ever so faintly to hold her in place the harder she writhed beneath the touch.

_JJ took a sharp gulp of air._

_"__Are you alright?" Emily looked down at her in concern. At first JJ only nodded vehemently but she knew it wouldn't be enough. She steeled herself and turned to face the black eyes boring into her with worry; scant inches away. _

_"__Fine." JJ forced herself to smile. She could actually feel her pupils dilating as she gazed at the brunette._ Yeah, I'm fine. Last night I had the hottest sex dream of my life and now I can't get it out of my head but you're my closest friend and I really want to know if your lips are as soft as I think – imagine – _dream_ them to be._ JJ truly hoped that maybe this once Emily didn't have to be as good a profiler as usual._

_"__Are you sure? You've been acting uncomfortable today. I'd say it was a repeat of the Kansas City situation except I saw you grab underwear this morning." Emily's lips curled into a flirtatious smirk. She was trying to tease JJ into relaxing. Taunting her with that uniquely Prentiss blend of intimacy and humor_. Kansas City. That was the time I forgot to grab clean underwear for my ready bag. _JJ blushed, recalling the horrible awkwardness of that day in the field. _But Emily remembered first._ The idea that Emily could be thinking of JJ without underwear . . . her survival instinct abruptly halted everything and declared absolute silence lest the rest of that sentence cause her mind to break. _

_Emily sensed the change. She might have ascribed it to offense, embarrassment, defensiveness or any one of a dozen other manifestations of resistance. It was truly telling of her personality that none of these explanations pushed her away. Instead she sat down beside JJ and with a finger beneath her chin guided her to face her friend. It was the barest brush of skin on skin and it made her stomach flip. Or was that from the intensity of Emily's gaze? _It's just Emily. She's worried. She doesn't know. She _can't_ know.

_"__Jennifer," Prentiss used the name on the rarest occasions; it was the most intimate term short of her code, "If something is wrong you can tell me."_

_JJ forced her gaze to stay steady; despite the glisten of emotion that she prayed only looked like a reflection of the lights. _No, I can't. You're my best friend and I tell you everything but I can't tell you this because you are my best friend._ The circular logic was making her dizzy. It always spun around the same core conviction: she couldn't lose Emily._

_"__Just a rough night's sleep, Em. I'll be ok." JJ reached up and squeezed the hand that hadn't left her shoulder, radiating a confident optimism she didn't feel. Emily smiled in return, worried but trusting._

_"__Ok. I'm here if you need me." Emily's hand tightened its grip, tethering them both together and hopefully to reality._

Yes, I need you._ JJ swallowed, hoping the sound wasn't as loud as it felt. _Now more than ever. Please._ When she let go of Emily's fingers and Emily released her shoulder, she couldn't tell whose hand trembled._

Back in the moment:

"I hate that we can't order any _real_ drinks." Garcia moaned as their beverages were delivered. She might not have been inside JJ's head for the last few minutes but she didn't need to be; she'd been in the conference room with both of them all day. Reid was there as well but he was absorbed in his calculations and volumes of reference material so she hardly expected him to have noticed the violent sexual charge in the air. Violent was the only word for it. It had made Penelope want to punch something. The dance had shifted into high gear and it was as agonizing as watching a tango and strip tease combined. (_A good striptease,_ Penelope corrected, _Like Morgan set to R. Kelly)_

JJ was wound so tight she might turn herself inside out. Each time Emily had approached her there'd been a split second where the blonde melted, listening to a deep rooted voice of instinct before her reason snapped back into place and she turned to steel again. Emily had been understandably confused by the unpredictable changes in behavior and gave the blonde her space. JJ simply moved back and forth; closer and farther, never able to decide where she needed to be. She was elevating mixed signals to a language that could rival Navajo code. The Interpol agent watched her friend from afar, trying to divine the change in their chemistry. Prentiss wasn't suspicious of her friends; she trusted Jennifer implicitly and had absolute faith in their relationship (whatever it was). That was why she never saw what Penelope did. She never caught the way JJ's eyes constantly wandered back to her, watching her; studying her like a new puzzle: daunting but irresistible. The fundamental rules of their behavior had shifted and now neither of them knew what game they were playing anymore. Yet neither was willing to stop.

Garcia could clearly see that something had changed since the night before. She privately commended herself for getting results by such subtle means since 'subtle' wasn't one of her preferred tactics. It was clear, however, that her work was not done. Fairy godmothers had it easy compared to her mission.

"We'll make up for that when the case is over." JJ vowed. They were in New York City. Emily was with them. They were _definitely_ going to have at least one fun night.

"Amen, sister." Emily echoed the sentiment, raising her glass and all three of them clinked their painfully non-alcoholic beverages together.

JJ observed from the corner of her eye as Emily nonchalantly sipped her drink through a white straw that contrasted her dark lipstick. _Her mouth is amazing._ She'd always been a trifle enraptured of the perfect contours of her friend's plush lips. She'd noticed when Emily stopped wearing sheer gloss and moved to ever darker and sultrier colors. Had she been studying the impossibly seductive feature all these years because she wanted to possess it by copying? Or to have it - as she contemplated now - by a more intimate capture?

JJ was getting wrapped up in watching Prentiss drink and further distracted by the questions ricocheting in her mind. The mental image of simply leaning across the small gap between them and kissing the color right off her best friend's mouth made JJ choke. She had been mid-swallow and now ginger ale clogged her wind pipe.

"Easy! Can you breathe? Ok, here, take a drink." Emily immediately began patting her back and pushed a glass of water closer. JJ took a grateful swig, the pain in her throat subsiding even though the burn in her cheeks was still red hot. The hemorrhagic coughing fit hadn't done much for her dignity but it _had_ concealed the blush caused by her fantasy interlude.

"I'm good." JJ confirmed. _I'm just making an idiot of myself and jeopardizing the most important relationship I have._ She didn't even notice the emphasis her mind put on Emily, much less challenge the categorization.

"Can I do anything?" Emily asked quietly, leaning close to the blonde. The hand that had been patting away choking convulsions now circled JJ's shoulders, wrapping her in a protective embrace. She wasn't trying to be private; she knew Garcia could hear everything and even if she couldn't she was an expert lip reader. No, Emily leaned closer to give JJ a sense of security. In Emily's arms she was always safe.

Penelope watched from across the table, eyes glued to the scene. Right now if either woman had even the slightest inclination of desire then a kiss was inevitable. They were literally a breath away from that consummate exchange. Neither of them were even blinking as they tried to read each other's minds.

Deep down, underneath the excitement, Garcia had just enough grasp on reality to know she couldn't hope for much. The demands of reality would probably end up making her efforts redundant. She just couldn't let the two women continue in the elaborate delusion they had created. It had them both trapped like mice in a maze and she couldn't stand watching them scrabble helplessly for direction anymore. If they could only bring the truth into the open, she was absolutely certain they would find their way.

_For once in my life I'm not going to interfere. I'm not. I'm not. I'm not._ Garcia repeated the mantra, chewing the tip of her straw and holding her breath as she awaited JJ's answer. This was her chance. She'd never get a better opening.

"I don't know. Can you take me to bed?" JJ replied. The suggestion had come out bolder than she intended. Normally she would smirk or laugh or in some other way use humor to conceal the sincerity of her thoughts. This time she hadn't caught the words soon enough. She was too intently focused on their staring match and when she heard what she'd said – an innocent statement that betrayed much deeper yearning – she jolted back to reality. A flash of panic doused the rising lust in her body and she leaned away. Not before she saw the confusion of reactions in Emily's obsidian gaze, though. There were a hundred emotions flashing in black and JJ was too consumed by her own mistake to decipher a single one.

Penelope bit through her straw. The two women were being deliberately impossible!

"I've seen how you sleep, JJ. I'd stand a better chance in one of Djinn's target buildings." Emily laughed, masterfully keeping her own maelstrom at a distance from this instant in time. She defused tension as expertly as a bomb. Jareau's internal panic was already calming down again. Emily always knew exactly how to keep her sane. _Even when she's making me lose my mind._

"Are you saying I'm a bad bed mate?" JJ challenged, knowing the woman would have a perfect answer for the question; rich with innuendo and secrecy.

"I would never say that. Especially not after what I saw this morning." Prentiss grinned, balancing on the tight rope of suggestion. JJ thought of the bed so violently disassembled in the throes of her sleep. _Hell. She doesn't walk the tight rope, she does a damn somersault._ If Penelope's watching eyes got any bigger she was going to burst a retina.

"I told you it was a rough night." Jareau countered. She tried to fake a pout but couldn't restrain her smile. For the first time today, things felt right.

"Rough. That seems like you," Emily's eyebrow arched perfectly, allowing imaginations to enjoy her pause, "I've seen what you can do to an alarm clock."

JJ laughed. She had a habit of not only hitting the snooze button but pounding it with the hateful passion of a control based serial killer. She'd assassinated multiple alarm clocks over the years and anyone caught between her fist and the button carried the battle scars as proof.

"I guess if you're scared you can't handle me, I'll just have to find another use for you. Something appropriate for your talents." JJ winked, hoping the inner trembling didn't resonate in her voice. She couldn't even begin to understand where this bravery was coming from. It felt liberating. It felt like she was finally allowing herself to do and be what she'd always intended. Was she frightening Emily? The brunette was hesitating a little more than usual in their banter.

"I am always at your service, J. Tonight, however, I think we're all best off going to be- sleep." Emily quickly corrected herself. The hormonal charge around the table didn't need any additional fuel. The brunette was already rising, dispelling the air of intimacy and tension. It wasn't like her to throw in the towel. _I went too far. She knows. She's scared._ The fears that bloomed up inside JJ must have blossomed across her face because Emily leaned down to give her hug.

"Sweet dreams, Blackbird." Em advised softly, leaving a soft kiss near her ear. The sheer relief of the reassurance met the force of her arousal all at once and JJ wondered if it was possible to simply shatter into a million pieces. She watched Emily walk away, not even sure she'd managed to murmur a reply. Her eyes ached as she observed the departure but only an outsider would've noticed the way her gaze shimmered with frustrated longing.

"Jennifer Jareau. I didn't know you had that in you, girl!" Penelope squealed as soon as Emily was outside listening distance. The tech's voice was equal parts scandalized surprise and wicked excitement. There might still be a prayer of making these two stubborn headcases come to their senses.

"What are you talking about?" JJ was still transfixed by the retreating figure. Her fingers clenched hungrily.

"'Can you take me to bed?'" Garcia mimicked JJ's request with the breathy inflection of a 1-900 operator, "You were serious!"

"As tired as I am? Hell yes. Maybe I can get Morgan to do it." JJ nodded to the far side of the hotel lobby where Morgan and Reid had caught Emily leaving.

"No, no, no. You don't pull that deflection crap with me. I saw the look in your eye. You were trying to decide if you wanted her on you, in you or everywhere at once." Garcia's feral grin would've put the Cheshire Cat to shame.

"Penelope! My god! It's Emily you're talking about!" JJ all but yelped the embarrassed protest. _  
_

"Huh-uh, sugar. You forget: I work with Derek Morgan. I know lust when I see it. It's the same way she looks at you."

"I don't – we just – she what?" all of JJ's arguments disappeared when her brain caught up to the last statement. It wasn't physically possible for Garcia's grin to get wider. Her cheeks were starting to hurt.

"J, the way that girl watches you? I guarantee: she's undressed you more times than a hooker working congress. I swear, sometimes I think the only reason she doesn't kiss you is because she knows she'd sooner suffocate than stop! Her eyes are screaming it."

"That's ridiculous, Pen. You're reading _way_ too much into it." JJ shook her head fiercely. _It's not possible. It would be too good to be true. It's not. It's Emily. We're just friends._

"Into what?" Morgan asked as he arrived. He'd lost Reid about 20 feet back to a busboy working the Times crossword.

"Chocodile! Thank goodness. Emily's eyes. What do you see when you look at her?" Penelope turned to her guaranteed ally.

"Usually a smart-ass sense of humor about to eviscerate my intellect," Morgan hedged, getting a read on the conversation from Garcia's expression, "But that's only when she's looking at me. When she's looking at blondie here? Pure, heart-stopping adoration."

"You guys, this is crazy." Jareau's brain was flashing with repeated 'error' and 'does not compute' warnings.

"Told you." Garcia threaded her arm through Morgan's elbow, patting him in reward for his backup. Penelope had informed Derek of her plans and progress in ending the emotional stalemate that had all of them squirming in vicarious tension. The BAU was trained to detect, observe and analyze emotional tells and subconscious indicators. The conflicting signals and pathological denial in JJ and Emily were driving everyone to the brink of sympathetic madness. It had to end. Now that her hunk of molten chocolate lava was fully up to speed he knew how to join the game.

"Oh definitely, J. The looks Emily gives you? She's like a puppy begging to be taken home and loved forever 'cause she'll sleep at your feet and rip the legs off anyone that comes near you." He elaborated happily.

"That would have to be something in the Rottweiler family since very few breeds have that level of strength and aggression before adulthood," Reid appeared, only having caught the last sentence. It was his way of joining the conversation, "Why are we talking about violent dogs?"

"We aren't Reid. We're talking about Emily's 'Secret.' You know the one." Garcia flashed exaggerated quote signs. She'd been willing to play nice. She'd tried subtle. JJ was too damn stubborn for anything short of a blow to the head. Fine. She wanted to get hit with a mallet? Penelope was ready to unleash the almighty Hammer of Thor at this point.

"Well, by definition a secret is unknown. She could have all kinds of them without the rest of us seeing any clue other than by deviations in her behavior," Reid theorized, "So far the only secret she's obviously betrayed is her feelings for JJ."

"This is impossible." JJ groaned, unable to defend herself from the wall of consensus.

"Oh – that's what you meant! The 'Secret' secret," Spencer finally processed Garcia's earlier cue, "Why? Has she finally spoken up?"

"No, wonder boy. Not yet." Morgan shook his head. He and Reid had both bet $200 in the (secret) office pool that Emily would admit her feelings for JJ. Rumor had it that Rossi had gone in for a full $500.

"Damn. I thought she must have when I saw how they were different today." Reid tsked. He was looking forward to collecting the extra cash and putting it towards a collection of American Revolution poetry he'd seen in Bartleby's.

"Different?" JJ's tenuous grasp on logic and control took another blow; stunned to think even Reid had seen that something changed. She stared hard at him, daring him to not answer. Spencer; innocent, honest and oblivious Spencer was Penelope's ace in the hole. He couldn't be manipulated, deceived or predicted. He was the living embodiment of inconvenient truths and as his mouth opened they all knew that's what was coming.

"Since Emily came back your interactions incorporated tremendous amounts of physical contact; both brief and lingering. That conveyed deeply rooted physical desire; either conscious or unconscious in nature. It was escalating rapidly and today it suddenly stopped. You reflexively maintained relative proximity for reassurance but three times I saw you reach for Emily to get her attention and each time you stopped just short of touching her. It indicates that the instinctive longing for physical contact is still strong but it's being overruled by conscious thought. Clearly something in the nature of your relationship has changed. Or you want it to."

_And that's how Thor's Hammer falls._ Garcia cheered silently.

"She – I -," JJ struggled, scouring her mind for a defense, "We're just friends."

The words sounded hollow and weak even as she heard them on her lips.

"No, sweetie. You're not. You and I," Penelope gestured between the two of them, "Are friends. Emily and Morgan; they are friends. The two of you? You are definitely something more."

_More._ JJ hadn't had a moment of peace all day but suddenly her mind went still. The word left echoing deafness in its wake like a cannonball. She had been trying to control herself using the same mantra: _just friends. It's just Emily. It was just a dream. We're just friends._ It hadn't worked. Because it wasn't just anything. _I don't want it to be._

_I Don't Want It To Be. _Her thoughts and emotions and reactions had been weaving impenetrable cobwebs over the surface of her mind and that single phrase scythed through them all like a diamond blade. It found the chains she'd wrapped around the hidden parts of her brain and broke them apart. _I don't want it to be 'just' anything._ She let the words repeat themselves, turning them around in her head. As liberating as the realization was, it was the next one that truly gave her wings. _It doesn't have to be anymore._

"I need to go." JJ felt the decision hit her whole body at once. Her feet were moving before she'd even finished the sentence.

"Go where, sugar?" Morgan queried, moving out of her way before she ran him over. She was already half way to the door and knew she didn't have to answer. He knew. Morgan knew, Penelope knew; hell, even Reid knew. They all knew where she needed to be and right now that was _all_ she knew.

* * *

Emily was sitting up in bed with a case file, trying for the fifth time to read and actually absorb the information. She kept hoping eventually she'd be able to focus on the words on the page instead of the ones in her head.

_'__Take me to bed?'_

Her whole body clenched each time the suggestion repeated. God, she'd come so close. The tension radiating off JJ all day had frightened her. Had the blonde detected Emily's buried impulses? Was JJ feeling awkward because she'd crossed a line? Why did everything seem so much more intense? Anytime they made contact – physical or visual – Emily had felt like JJ was screaming to her and the brunette simply didn't know what to do.

Then those words had fallen off perfectly teasing lips and Emily didn't have any control left. She would've given in. If JJ hadn't suddenly pulled back . . . Prentiss shivered. She'd had to get away. The same coy flirtatious banter that they'd teased each other with for years felt too real. She came too close to admitting the truth and she had to get away before she gave in and destroyed everything.

Absorbed in the maelstrom of analysis, she didn't register urgently approaching footsteps. The pounding knock on her door sent the folder flying. She was out of the bed with her Glock already gripped before the knock had finished. Sliding up to the door from the far side she kept clear of the peephole. The knock started again, a gunfire staccato that had to be fueled by either fear or caffeine.

"Yes?" Emily called, keeping her stance ready.

"Em? It's me." The familiar voice sounded breathless. Emily sighed relief and swung the door open. The visit was unexpected but she wasn't about to turn her away. _You're in your pajamas. It's late. You've barely kept your hands to yourself all day. Really a good idea?_

"JJ, is everything ok?" Prentiss took in her friend's flushed appearance. Had she run all the way up here? Emily's first instinct was to step closer, to protect JJ, to keep them both inside the safe bubble that they created for each other. _Don't do something stupid!_ The way her fingers already ached to touch the other woman told her that proximity was a bad idea. She took several paces away under the guise of putting her Glock away. If she was too close to JJ right now she might do something she'd always regret but never want to undo.

"No. But I think it will be." JJ shook her head. Was it the dim light of the room or the color of her cheeks making her eyes darker than Emily had ever seen? She seemed awfully calm for anything to be wrong. Flushed and breathing a little shallow but radiating an iron composition. No fear. No panic. No doubt. _What is going on?_

"Can I help?" Prentiss decided that concern was better to voice than the confusion ransacking her thoughts.

"Yes. I'm sorry, Emily, but I really need something." Jennifer's words were caught between apology and plea. Emily's worry drew her closer again, determined to maintain control. For JJ's sake she could do anything.

"What?" She reached out to JJ's arm, squeezing in reassurance.

"This." Without warning JJ's hands caught her waist, spinning Emily around. She pinned her flat to the wall and allowed the stunned black eyes to take in electrified blue for only a second before capturing her lips.

* * *

_As usual, comments and reviews are welcome. Writing is half the fun, the other 50% is reader reaction.  
_


	20. Questions

**Chapter 20**

**Questions**

By doubting we are led to question, by questioning we arrive at the truth.

-Peter Abelard

_Celeste exited the Hotel Palomar feeling extremely pleased with herself. $500 in her purse and not even 10pm; you had to love the early birds. Perhaps she should call the agency and get another booking for the night? She was just thumbing her phone when a black SUV pulled into the port cochere and stopped right beside her. In some neighborhoods that would be her cue to back away and keep her thumb over the 911 speed dial. At the entrance of a 5 star hotel, however? Celeste casually moved one leg further out to the side, exposing a long expanse of thigh through the slit in her dress. The passenger window rolled down. Bingo! She tossed her phone back into her purse and sauntered to the inviting opening._

_"__Evening – Well, hey sexy!" she grinned, recognizing a familiar face, "Long time no see."_

_"__Business travel, you know how it is." The driver shrugged. Celeste wasn't entirely sure what the accent was but she'd loved it from the first moment they'd met. _

_"__At least it brought you back. I take it someone is looking for some company?" she crossed her arms in the open window, allowing the pose to accent her cleavage without exaggerating. She was always careful to keep her moves elegant. _

_"__Only if you have time." The gracious answer was as charming as it was coy._

_"__For you? I think I can make it work." She grinned. The driver came out and opened the passenger door for her, a throwback to a more genteel era that Celeste remembered from before. It had been almost 5 months since the last time but some people just make an impression._

_"__You know?" she gave the client a salacious look as they drove away, "This is starting to look like my best night ever."_

* * *

The first taste of Emily's lips was everything JJ had always thought love at first sight should be. It was an instantaneous rush that felt like leaning over the edge of a sky scraper, gulping hot cocoa in a blizzard and standing in front of the bass woofer at a concert; all at once._ 'Sooner suffocate than stop.'_ Penelope's words laughed in the echo of her mind and JJ knew it would be the most perfect way to die. The sheer release of the contact was intoxicating and wiped all thought from her mind until a tiny report trickled up from her senses. _She's not responding. She's not even breathing._

JJ broke the rapturous embrace as fear roared up again. She scoured Emily's face for an explanation. She could see only confusion clouding the perfectly regal features. _She doesn't want this. I've ruined everything. I'm going to lose her forever. _JJ started to pull away. Abruptly the confusion in Emily's eyes turned to determination. Previously frozen fingers caught hold of JJ's face and shoulder and pulled her back. This time the lips that met hers betrayed identical need. One hand gently caressed JJ's cheek while the other more hungrily fanned wide between her shoulder blades, pressing her impossibly closer to the body she held pinned.

For a heartbeat Jareau couldn't believe this was really happening. She'd tasted paradise, plummeted into hell for a fraction of a second and then been yanked back to salvation. Everything in the touch and taste of the lips against hers now promised that she'd never again have to live without such bliss.

She'd finally put the puzzle together. She'd had all the pieces but not until now did she know the picture. Only now could she feel it. In Emily's embrace she felt the intensity and tenderness; the need to possess and confess coupled together in a sweet balance of aching perfection. This was what they'd been chasing and escaping. The touch of fingers trailing over her skin conveyed a thousand words of longing. The shifting emotion of the kiss, gentle to bruising, hungry to soothing; it was an elaborate language all its own and JJ replied in kind. The intimate exchange was a physical conversation, emotions like words passing between them in styles of flowing script and scrawled graffiti.

The sensual dialogue stopped abruptly when Emily broke away for air. _She gave up first._ JJ felt a tickle of pride. Not everyone could say they'd literally kissed someone breathless. Emily leaned her forehead against JJ's, staying as close as possible while she fought to steady her ragged breathing.

"Jennifer," she swallowed, almost choking on the lust in her own voice, "I think we need to talk."

JJ couldn't restrain the chuckle that bubbled up from inside her. It was so Emily. She couldn't lose herself to a moment without thinking ten steps ahead. She was in her sleep shorts and cami with miles of smooth skin on display begging to be touched and JJ's hands would've been shaking if they weren't fisted in the material of her top.And _now_ Emily wanted to talk.

"You're right." JJ surrendered. It wasn't enough for only one of them to be sensible right now. They both needed to be. Jareau ordered her fingers to release their possessive hold of the other woman, starting to step back but she met the forceful resistance of Emily's grip.

"I didn't say you had to let go." Emily corrected, playfulness dancing across her smile. Now JJ laughed. She leaned back in and relaxed as arms enveloped her with casual security.

"I thought we might want to be more comfortable." She pointed out; absently gliding her fingers along Emily's arm, raising goose bumps in the wake of her touch.

"More comfortable? Then pinned to a wall with a rubber door stop gouging into my ribs?" she managed to hold an expression of innocent confusion but the sarcasm laced her smile. _No one should be able to make me feel this much._ JJ laughed again, wondering how the erotic desire of the kiss had melted into affectionate intimacy in their embrace and now was the comfortable familiarity they always shared. She took Emily's hands and pulled her over to the bed.

"It's the only place to sit, Em." JJ clarified when she felt the other woman resist the movement. Why did hotels think that a room that could sleep two only needed one chair? She sat them both down on the edge of the bed, deliberately close to each other but safe from temptation. Emily opened her mouth as if to begin speaking several times but kept stopping. Whatever words were swirling in the chaos of her head, JJ could only catch a glimpse in her eyes. Neither of them knew quite where to begin.

_I kissed her. I kissed her. She kissed me back. _Delirium kept repeating in JJ's head. The sheer intoxicating surprise was preventing her from thinking past that simple reality. Except they had to; everything had just changed. Hadn't it? JJ brushed a wave of hair away from Emily's eyes, getting a better look at the emotions within. _If it takes to my dying day, I WILL learn to read you, Emily._ She was already starting to. The black of her gaze was warm; sharp with an intellect in overdrive but indescribably gentle. The fingers clasping her own held tight but didn't tremble; she didn't have to hang on for her life but she was holding onto the moment.

"How long?" JJ finally broke the silence. She expected Emily to respond with a question. It wouldn't be the question-for-question typical of denial but a stall tactic, a way to buy a few more seconds to think.

"I don't know," Emily's honest reply came as a surprise to them both, "It's been so long I can't remember what anything felt like before."

"I cast my spell the first time you saw me?" JJ teased, drawing Emily further out of her head.

"No. More like the first time I saw you nail an UnSub. I mean, when you get pissed? Pretty hot." Emily shot back, whistling appreciatively at the sexy recollection. JJ laughed again; it felt wonderful to laugh. The ease of their banter meant they were both safe to bring out the scarier thoughts, the hidden ones.

"Why Miss Prentiss, you'll make me blush!" she countered before feeling a turn of seriousness take hold, "I didn't . . . I don't know how I never realized."

This time it was Emily that moved hair out of JJ's face, subtly guiding her to maintain their eye contact. The admission was equal parts confusion and apology. They both desperately wanted to stay in the comfort of playful teasing but the necessity of reality was swelling up, splintering into the delirious contentment like cracks on a frozen lake.

"Well, maybe I figured it out sooner because I didn't have a husband and son complicating the picture." Emily ventured out the first shaky step on the fragile ice around them. JJ winced internally but refused to let her gaze drop. Emily was right of course. Will and Henry were a crucial part of the picture. They always had been, obviously. But just as a camera can choose where to focus the lens, JJ had found herself more and more frequently allowing them to be blurred in the edges. Now, for them, for Emily and for herself, she had to see the whole picture clearly. It started with the person right in front of her.

"I think I know when I got the first hint. When I was in that storage room . . . being tortured," she spoke slowly, cautiously feeling her way around the edges of the memory. Emily's hands both squeezed hers tighter but didn't interrupt, "I would pass out and have dreams. I think I even started to hallucinate."

"God, Jennifer." Emily couldn't restrain the pained murmur. She'd walked JJ through the horror of her ordeal step by step after it happened but neither of them willingly returned to this particular memory lane.

"I dreamed of being found and it was always you," the pain in her voice gave way to happy relief, "I would see you come in and I'd know it was going to be ok; you'd help me, you'd save me. I hadn't seen you in almost 2 years but I knew it would be you that came for me. You saved my life."

Emily swallowed whatever protest she felt. This was JJ's nightmare to remember as she chose. No matter if Prentiss wanted to point out everything the team had done. It didn't matter that it had taken _all_ of them to save JJ. This was JJ's memory. Despite biting her tongue, Emily's eyes must have betrayed her thoughts because JJ quirked an understanding smile.

"You did save me, Em. You helped me to survive," the blonde explained, an unnoticed tear making its way down her cheek, "Do you understand? It wasn't the team I imagined saving me. I didn't dream of them or Will or even Henry. I didn't focus on anyone else to pull me through. I only saw you and you were my lifeline."

Now Emily couldn't speak even if she wanted to. She stroked the tear off JJ's cheek and pulled her into a close hug, clutching her with the fierce need of assurance. JJ's returning grip was equally desperate. They both had to be reminded that she was really here, that she was okay.

"I must have known then. On some level. I just didn't know what to do about it other than hang onto you with everything I had." JJ's clinging hands emphasized the words.

She thought of a year's worth of phone calls, texts and video chats. She remembered the first time she'd answered the burner phone with her code and felt the frisson of excitement and relief when Emily's voice wrapped around her. There were the nights she'd fallen asleep at her desk because she didn't want to be away from the sound of her. Because the sound of Emily was all that kept the nightmares away. There were the conversations of frustrated tears as she clawed her way through the PTSD. Then there had been fun too. The jokes and flirtations and simple comments that flew back and forth between them were a constant reminder that however far apart they might be physically they were still in each other's thoughts. JJ hadn't just been hanging onto Emily. She'd been forging links in a chain that could tether her to the woman she needed. In a thousand small ways, a million words she'd been saying the same thing over and over. _Come back. Be here. Be with me. _

"You made it almost impossible to stay away." The rueful shake of Emily's head lamented the self-inflicted torture they'd both gone through for the last year.

"I think that was the plan." JJ smiled, relaxing her grip and leaning back.

She needed to see Emily. She needed the proof of_ all_ her senses that the woman had truly returned. _Come back._ She was here; Emily was in JJ's arms. _Be here. _The smell of her skin and the lingering taste of her lips were real. _Be with me. _The protective touch of Emily's fingers and the sincerity in her face promised she wasn't going anywhere. The chain of hopes fulfilled led inevitably to one even more important. A final need she'd never expressed.

JJ's eyes flickered down to Emily's lips and back, checking for permission before leaning in and kissing her once more. _Be Mine._

* * *

_Bruce Jansen hadn't really known what to think when he ran into the Fortress representative at his bar. He'd had a few too many already and when he saw the familiar face it was all too easy to give into the swell of anger. They were trying to frame him! They were going to cost him his job!_

_"__I got clean, dammit! I spent a month in rehab. That flag was removed over 8 months ago! What the hell is wrong with your system that it came back this week? Now they think I'm using again! You idiots haven't even been here to do the audits or tests. How could you flag me?!" _

_The rep hadn't seemed entirely surprised. Probably trained to never show a reaction. Military assholes. _

_"__I'm sorry to hear that. The system has had some glitches in this last week. Your company will undoubtedly be informed shortly but we've had a mild security compromise. If you'd like, I can do an authentication audit and see about removing the flag." _

_"__You can?" Bruce hadn't expected such calm, sympathetic supportiveness. Maybe the security lot weren't all utter bastards. _

_"__Sure. We're pretty far from the hotel with my laptop but you're in luck: we're auditing a building near here. I can swipe us in and access the system from there."_

_"__Seriously? It's that easy? You'd do that?" Bruce eagerly (if unsteadily) followed this unexpected angel of mercy towards the door._

_"__Of course," the polite accent was full of professionalism but also concern, "After all, our business is still a business. It's all about customer satisfaction."_

* * *

Emily lay in bed staring at the ceiling of her hotel room. A glance at the clock told her it was well past midnight. She needed to sleep. The schedule on a field case was ten times as grueling and unpredictable as the BAU office and she was still recovering from jet lag and if she didn't go to sleep soon she was going to be completely nonfunctional. None of these facts convinced her to close her eyes or let go of the blonde sleeping curled against her. Half on top of her, actually. JJ really was very clingy in her sleep.

_The second kiss (technically it had been the third but Emily didn't count the first one since she'd been too stunned to participate) had been an opportunity for some turnabout if not fair play. JJ had been the one to break away for air this time and Emily mentally gave herself a score point. The satisfaction vanished when Jareau rose abruptly from the bed, barely caught by Prentiss' hand as she moved towards the door._

_"__Where are you going?" the brunette knew there was really only one answer but a dozen reasons. She was going to leave. JJ's cocked eyebrow announced that she thought it was obvious._

_"__I'm going to get my go bag. I'll need to get ready in the morning." She stated unequivocally. How did she make professional practicality so suggestive?_

_"__JJ, I don't -," Emily started to speak but didn't know how to finish. _I don't what? Want to take you to bed and see what happens when you come undone and find out if your skin tastes like my dreams? Riiiiiiiight. _Emily's mouth went dry just at the thought. _I don't want to take advantage of you because it's late and we're both emotional and you're only now figuring out everything I've known for years? _That felt closer to the truth. _

_JJ must have seen the conflict in Emily's expression because she stepped back over to her, cupping her cheek. Looking up into that open face, so full of affection and reassurance, Emily felt the answer unlock. _

_"__I don't want you to have one more secret. All of this will only turn into a regret if we don't do things right." She confessed. The reminder of long term realities tinged JJ's smile with sadness at the edges but took nothing away from the tender conviction in her gaze._

_ "__It's late, Em, I'm not going to do anything. Just sleep. But," the absolute confidence in her voice weakened to a softer vulnerability, "I need to be near you. Can I please sleep here?"_

_Emily wasn't aware that she'd been holding her breath until it came out of her with a sigh of relief. JJ was already in perfect sync with her own thoughts. She should've expected as much._

_"__I don't think I could sleep tonight if you didn't." _

Not sleeping either way. Emily sighed but didn't regret the decision for a second. JJ in her arms (chastely clothed in pajamas) was bliss beyond any dream.

* * *

_Emmet Granger woke to thundering pain in his head and a mouth that felt like he'd been sucking on a gym sock full of pennies. _Damned uppity blue bloods and their fancy cognac and martinis. Can't get an honest working man's drink like whiskey. That perfume bottle shit is ten times worse than brown bottle flu. _He shakily sat up; his head almost exploding in pain landed him flat on his back again. He felt like someone had decided to use his skull for a bowling ball. Oddly enough his stomach wasn't too upset. Normally a hangover stormed in his gut like a twister made of fire and bile. _

_Searching his foggy memory he commended himself for not recollecting any porcelain prayers. _Maybe I'm getting better with the rich shit._ The dinner hadn't been all bad. The food was good and the other guests hadn't all been silver spoon brats. It was mostly industrialists and self-made men like himself and even if they rolled their eyes sometimes at his accent they all respected the money._

_After the dinner was when things got fuzzy. How many drinks had it been? Too many bad ones, obviously, and not enough good. Some of the gents had suggested a place down the block where he could get a real drink, a decent smoke and possibly some lively company. About half a dozen of the more boiled billionaires had thought that to be a genius idea. Emmet couldn't remember how he'd gotten to the lounge or how long he was there. _Maybe I'm still there._ He'd realized some minutes ago that he was definitely not on a bed – his or any other. This was a floor. He'd passed out or been clocked in fights often enough to know the unforgiving stiffness of having slept at foot level._

_Daring to open his eyes, the Texan was at first grateful to find no painful light shredding his corneas. The relief subsided, however, when he realized he was in a nearly pitch dark room. Attempting to sit up again only brought back the thunderous pain in his head and this time he did almost puke. _Christ. Did I pass out and hit something?!_ He gingerly touched the back of his head, feeling the aching bruise. By dint of the same stubborn will that had scraped together an empire Granger rolled over, pushing himself to his hands and knees. The movement brought on a second wave of nausea and he retched but refused to drop again._

_Finally rising to a vertical position, though no higher than his knees, he patted his pockets for his phone. The room was too damn dark. He needed the flashlight. Every pocket was empty. _What the hell?_ No phone, no wallet, no pocket watch from his great grand-daddy and not even the condom he always bought for luck before a night out. The hammering in his head began to subside as adrenaline coursed into his system. Now he could hear the absolute stillness wrapped around him. Dark silence loomed in on all sides, barely leaving smudgy outlines of the room and its furniture. _

_"__Hello?" Emmet decided to try the obvious first. His own voice only echoed back to him. Grabbing hold of the corner of a nearby desk he dragged himself to his feet, taking a few shaky steps through the spinning room. Panic was the ultimate hangover cure but Granger still felt cobwebs in his head like iron mesh. _I wasn't drunk. Not that bad._ He began to feel facts slipping into his mind and stoking fear. A few more steps and his eyes were adapting to the dark. He saw an open floor plan office, a maze of cubicles stretched before him. How did he even get here? He would've remembered walking. Last place he'd walked was . . . outside the lounge? Right, he'd stepped outside into the back alley. There'd been a reason but it was still unreachable._

_At the far side of the office he made out the silhouette of a figure. Twin reactions of relief and worry swelled up simultaneously. Who sits in a dark empty office?_

_"__Hello?" he called again, making his way unsteadily towards the shape, "I don't know how I got here. Where is this?"_

_No answer._

If it's a nut job I can take him._ Emmet determined. If this was some damned attempt at kidnapping he sure as hell wasn't going to be the one that paid. There'd been someone else walking out into the alley with him, hadn't there? Was it one of the other big shots he'd been boozing with?_

_"__Look, what do you want with me? You brought me here, didn't you?" Emmet was getting angry now and it made his movements faster, firmer. He wasn't far now. The figure hadn't moved, just sat in a chair at the end of the aisle, watching._

_"__Answer me, you bastard!" Granger lunged the last few feet, knocking the other person to the floor and rolling with him several feet before coming up on top. He pinned the man, knee in his chest and hands around his throat, rage squeezing his fingers before he realized there was no resistance. He wasn't fighting back. He wasn't moving or even breathing. _Jesus H. Christ! He's dead!_ Emmet shot away from the body, slamming his head against a cubicle wall and reigniting a lightning bolt of pain that shot down his spine._

_Back on his feet and moving fast, Emmet's panic spiraled out of control, trapping him in tunnel vision and he ricocheted off walls and chairs as he ran the opposite direction. He was almost to the other end of the cubicles when his foot snagged and he went head over heels, collapsing face down. The taste of copper in his mouth told him he'd bitten his lip, possibly even knocked a tooth loose. The smell was making him nauseous, it was overpowering._ _As he pushed himself back up he felt the stickiness on his face. How much was he bleeding? He hadn't fallen _that_ hard. He touched his face, feeling dampness along an entire cheek. _I didn't cut myself._ The numbing thought reversed his panic. In slow motion he felt the carpet beneath his hands. It was soaking wet. Raising fingers he couldn't see he took a sniff. Slightly sweet; not the good sweet, the sick sweet of something dying; and metal: the tangy bite of copper. _

_Turning around, still on his knees, Emmet crept back towards the obstacle that had tripped him. He found her hair first. It was caked with the blood pooling around her head. Granger sobbed, barely able to see the dead woman but his fingers telling him she was stone cold. Trying to find her face his shaking hands patted up her body. One of his fingers slipped into an unexpected opening and in a moment of surreal hyperawareness Emmet knew it was a hole in her chest. He screamed and pushed away, not daring to even think about what he had felt. He couldn't stop his body reacting though and every muscle seized, shaking as he vomited._

_"__Glad to see you're up. You missed so much of the party already." The taunting voice rose from a cubicle not ten feet away. He'd passed it. Twice. His captor approached, staying barely beyond the range of his vision. He didn't need eyes when he had ears though. The accent. He knew the accent. He'd heard it earlier this evening. When was that? At the dinner? The lounge?_

_"__You," Emmet fought to grasp the slithering tendril of memory, "You're with that company. The security people."_

_"__Quite correct." The accent had seemed so posh and charming in the brightly lit banquet hall. Now the curt syllables held a surgical edge of scrutiny._

_"__The dinner. You were at the dinner but you were at the lounge too. You didn't go with us. You were already there." Granger could recall walking into the warm, cozy environment with the boisterous crowd of billionaires. He could picture all their faces except this one. This one hadn't been in the crowd but already at the bar, sipping scotch. Emmet had felt an immediate draw of camaraderie; anyone that drank proper whiskey was okay in his book, even a Limey._

_"__I was, Emmet." the agreement was casual, like they were still having that simple chat over drinks._

_"__We talked . . .about," he saw the dim bar lighting, could recall the smooth smoke of his scotch as he sipped, "We talked about security."_

_The sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach only got worse as Emmet recalled the conversation. Opinionated even when dead sober, he hadn't been at his most charming three sheets to the wind. _What did I say?_ Obviously, he'd crossed a line._ In Texas . . .In Texas . . ._he didn't realize he was murmuring out loud the words as he struggled to remember what he'd said that had landed him in this catastrophe._

_"__Yes, you said that in Texas all a business man needs for security is a handshake and a six-shooter." the mocking words came back in the clipped accent, biting with sarcasm._

_"__I didn't mean – I'm sorry – I wasn't –," he tried to say every apology at once and none would come out. _I didn't know I made you mad! You didn't say anything!_ Granger railed against the injustice of this torture. Except that wasn't completely true. _You did say something. You did. You laughed._ That's it. Laughed, but nicely, like being impressed. Emmet could still hear the chuckle and remembered that it had pleased him since he didn't expect a Brit to appreciate Texan honor. _You said every company had weaknesses, especially mine. _Emmet had found that puzzling even then. Had Fortress been auditing his business from a distance in order to present a bid? _

Then what? Then . . .then . . ._there was the mention of secrets._ 'If it weren't so crowded in here I'd let you in on a few secrets you'd find surprising.'_ The mysterious foreigner had sounded so convincing that Emmet had been too intrigued to refuse. They'd stepped away from the bar. _We went out the back door that dumped into an alley._ Granger's mind went black after that. It was blank from then until he'd woken up however many hours later in this nightmare._

_His captor slid in near to him with terrifyingly agile reflexes, now so close to his face that all he could see were eyes that glittered as cold and hard as marble._

_"__Tell me, Emmet. How secure do you feel now?"_

* * *

JJ could hear Emily's heartbeat. She had awakened with her head pillowed on the brunette's generous chest and immediately blushed but before she could move she'd caught the steady sound beneath her ear. The soft rhythm and the intimacy of hearing it in the silence of the dark hotel room were beyond hypnotic.

Soothing as the sound was and safe as she felt in the arms holding her secure, nothing could calm the storm of questions building in her mind. When JJ had returned with her go bag and changed for bed there had been a silent, mutual agreement that talking was done for the night. The evening had been exhausting enough already. They'd achieved their first milestone: coming to grips (in more ways than one) with each other. That, however, was only the doorway onto a path more tangled than the Labyrinth.

What did this mean for them? For the future? What was going to happen when the case ended? Were these days together going to be their only chance? Would Emily go back to London? Would she ask JJ to go with her? _I couldn't_. That answered flashed up quickly, bringing with it thoughts of Henry and then the BAU. The other questions just kept coming. Would Emily stay here if she asked? Would JJ ask? _I have to talk to Will._ That reaction wasn't so much an answer as an obstruction. It led to yet another winding path of problems that she couldn't even begin to contemplate.

_"__I don't want you to have one more secret."_

Emily's gentle warning had been so artfully poised between the consuming intensity of the moment and the looming magnitude of the future. In her own strong, compassionate way she had been voicing a fear. Prentiss was allowing for the chance that nothing would change; that she and JJ would go their separate ways and she would return to her role as wife and mother. If that happened Emily didn't want JJ walking back to Will with one more thing to weight down their silences.

That was why Emily had resisted allowing their intimacy to go any further than a kiss. No matter what decision was eventually made, sleeping together (in the more cardiovascular sense than their current position) would burden JJ with a secret either to confess or regret. Emily was still protecting JJ. _At what cost to herself_? JJ held even tighter to the slender body, wondering how she could seem stronger than metal during the day but fragile as glass at night. _I __**will**_ _tell him about us, Em._ JJ vowed mentally; knowing that the woman lying beside her had been laboring to provide her with a safe way out should she need it. _ I don't._

"I don't want you to be a secret." JJ murmured. The void of the room had been filling up with the noise of questions and problems, an incessant chatter on all sides as doubts and objections rose from every corner like the bogey shadows of childhood. Reflexively, JJ's hands clenched even harder to Emily's body, clinging fast to her anchor against the maelstrom of worries and confusion.

"'S'k,J." Emily mumbled in response to the fingers squeezing into her ribs. In her sleep Emily rolled over, wrapping JJ in a tighter embrace. Even in dreams, Emily would keep her safe.

* * *

_As always, I welcome comments and feedback. I apologize for the fact that the posts are happening less frequently but here in the thick of the story it takes more time to think and work things out properly. _


	21. Answers

**Chapter 21**

**Answers**

"The trouble with life isn't that there is no answer, it's that there are so many answers."

-Ruth Benedict

There is a natural reflex to be startled when awakened by someone pounding on your door in the middle of the night. This is compounded exponentially by the awareness – upon waking – that you're in bed with a team mate and there's another calling your name between knocks. Emily's eyes shot open, meeting a matching expression on JJ's face. There was a split second of panic as brains fought to catch up to physical instinct.

"Come on, Em!" Morgan's voice through the door was exactly the grounding they needed. Adrenaline took over but not because of their situation. JJ shot for the bathroom with her go bag, already shedding clothes. Emily lunged for the door, fear and excitement both threatening to fracture her trademark detachment.

"We have something?" she demanded as soon as the door ripped open, interrupting Derek mid-knock.

"Yeah, Garcia woke Hotch and Rossi. We gotta move!" his tone was also torn between reactions. This was what they'd been waiting for. A break. Had Djinn struck again? Every crime got them closer to catching the killer but every clue meant a life they hadn't saved.

"Conference room in ten?" Emily checked, knowing that she could actually be ready in 5. Three if she didn't worry about bedhead.

"No! The garage. We're hitting the road ASAP!" Derek replied over his shoulder, already heading down the hall to the next profiler's room. Which would happen to be JJ's.

"Morgan, go get Reid and Kate. I'll wake JJ. I have a key." Emily called. It made more sense. It was more efficient. The fact that it was also half true (she did still have the key from her morning coffee delivery) nicely concealed the half that wasn't. Fortunately, Derek was too focused on his mission of rallying the team to bother examining the statement or her for ulterior motives. He simply reversed course and bolted back up the hallway, undoubtedly panicking sleeping guests with the urgent militancy of his pounding feet.

Emily let the door slam shut as she stripped and redressed with a speed that would've brought applause from quick-change artists worldwide. She was just finger combing her hair (thank god she'd gone back to the natural waves, that damn straight look had taken waaaaay too long) when JJ emerged from the bathroom, doing up the last few buttons of her blouse.

"SUV's. Garcia found something. You missed the third one from the top." Emily helpfully informed as she did up her boots. JJ made a noise of irritation but shot her a quick smile of thanks. Personally, Emily preferred to fill her ready bag with professional wear sans-buttons. It saved a few seconds in situations like these.

"Whatever she found must be bad." JJ replied, knowing that they wouldn't have been ripped from bed in the pre-dawn hours for a tip that was anything less than lethal.

"Most likely." Emily agreed, strapping on her gun and badge and heading to the door. She poised her hand just over the knob, watching JJ for the moment she signaled she was ready. Gun, badge, shoes, jacket – done! JJ was at her side but covered the door handle with her own hand, staying Emily's fingers briefly. This was their last chance for anything personal before work swept them both away.

"Before we go out there I need to tell you two things." JJ forced them both to take half a second of breath, knowing their job was about to throw them onto a roller coaster at top speed. Emily felt a chill. The gravity of that sentence did not bode well. Her eyes rapidly scanned JJ's face for a hint of the words to come but the only read she could get was tension in the blonde's resolve. Remorse?

"What?" Prentiss steeled herself and her expression, trying to radiate concern without fear. She must have failed; JJ's smirk was gentle but teasing as she leaned in close. The blonde was rapidly learning the flickers of Emily's hidden emotions. She caught the breath of anticipation that barely escaped the other woman's mouth.

"I don't regret a single moment of last night." So saying, she planted a lingering kiss on Emily, pouring into their embrace all the words she didn't have time to say.

Emily's sigh of relief was captured between them. JJ could feel the other woman's lips turn up in a smile at the tender reassurance. They both happily fell into a solitary moment in which nothing else existed but each other. All too soon the kiss ended with a shared sound of resignation. There was nothing Prentiss wanted more than to lie back down on the bed with JJ in her arms and figure out everything they needed to know and say. By the grazing touch of fingers tracing her cheek she could tell JJ yearned for that same respite. There was no such luxury in life with the BAU.

"And the other thing?" Emily asked, trying to maintain a casual composure but her delight was too plain to see.

"Your shirt is on inside out." JJ grinned, delighted as well.

* * *

The rush to the garage and SUV's continued as a race to the airport. Hotch assured them they'd all get fully briefed on the jet; primarily because Garcia would have to fill them in. All he had been able to understand from Penelope's excited technical ranting was that she had found Djinn. Or his next crime scene. Or what he wanted to be his next crime scene. The technical analyst could be difficult to understand at the best of times and 4:30 am was decidedly not 'the best of times.' Hotchner, however, trusted her skills implicitly and if she said they had to fly, they had to fly.

"Okay, Garcia. Go ahead." Hotch instructed once everyone was situated on the plane and gathered around the laptop. She had assured the team leader that her actual presence wasn't going to be necessary and besides, she was still untangling mountains of convoluted data and code.

"Here we go, ghost busters! I had several programs running all night to sift through Fortress' security holdings and logs – which were massive, just so you know! That Oh So Helpful deluge of data we got landed with? That was the digital equivalent of water boarding. – But I was scouring for anomalies and one of the protocols I refined was to find buildings where the security deactivated _after_ the close of business."

"Garcia, when do you sleep?" Callahan wondered as they all could hear the caffeine mania gripping their hyper analyst.

"In blinks," Penelope didn't even miss a beat, "I was getting too many hits. Apparently Fortress secures a lot of buildings full of workaholics and at least one where the manager was regularly slipping in after hours for some private time with a 'professional friend.' Needless to say, I'm quite happy he had cut the cameras. BUT by refining the criteria further to include duration of deactivation time and windows that went past midnight I was able to narrow the field to only the buildings Djinn targeted or used for trial runs. All 20 popped up as well as another dozen he must've scoped out for future use. And _that_ was when the program told me a property had just matched the criteria as of 12:01 am this morning."

"In Philadelphia." Hotch assumed, knowing that as where Garcia had insisted they had to be.

"Where Rochester and Courtenay just happen to be for the night? That's convenient." Rossi observed wryly.

"With your permission I got hold of the local force. They secured the building, confirmed the three bodies are inside and – bonus! – while they were there a bunch of trouble makers in hoodies showed up with malicious intent and a van of SEMTEX and diesel." Garcia's pleasure nearly made the screen glow.

"Have they identified the perpetrators?" Emily leaned forward. This wasn't just a break in the case; this might be the explosion that blew it wide open.

"Keystone United. Racist skinheads. The target building is a law office run by a Jewish family." Garcia scowled, no doubt thinking of damage she might wish to wreak on the supremacists.

"But Middleton has been in custody, how did Djinn pass the information?" Kate wondered.

"He must know The Broker is out of service. The information went directly from him to the Keystones." Penelope shook her head. She'd scoured all of Middleton's files and there was no communication of plans for a Philadelphia target.

"That's the first break in pattern. The UnSub is so compelled to resume killing he's willing to risk not covering his tracks as thoroughly." Morgan concluded. It was a frightening transition point: the moment killing became more important than self-preservation.

"More than that," Reid spoke up, "Djinn most likely knows that The Broker has been arrested and that creates gaping exposure in his cover which could inevitably lead to being investigated and found. Never mind that all of Fortress knows the FBI are involved. Despite all of this danger he goes ahead with the most sudden and impulsive cycle of kills yet."

"That breaks the patterns of long term planning and careful identity protection. Whatever pressure is causing these disruptions will lead the UnSub to make mistakes." Hotch stated the fact they all knew.

"What's going to happen when he realizes he's already made one?" JJ pondered aloud, gathering surprised looks, "When that law office doesn't blow up and erase the crime scene, he'll know something went wrong. What happens then?"

"Once the pattern is completely disrupted and exposed? Anything is possible," Rossi never shied away from worrisome prospects, "He might lash out violently or try to disappear. Either way, it'll cause complete destabilization."

The team went silent, considering the implications. They'd crossed the point of no return. From here they knew that catching Djinn was inevitable. The only questions that remained were the timing and the cost.

* * *

The Philadelphia PD were understandably grateful and proud at the same time. The tip from Garcia had helped them prevent an explosion that would've disrupted business for the most commercially active neighborhood in the city. The fact that they'd also managed to capture half a dozen hate group criminals was pure icing. Currently basking in such positive results and the attendant glory, the local officers were all too happy to allow the BAU full access.

The crime scene was abuzz with officers and techs carefully skirting points of evidence. Hotch interfaced with the local enforcement while the rest of his team split off to examine everything. It was the first truly pristine crime scene and Hotchner wanted it combed by every set of eyes he had.

The order and precision of the BAU team was always baffling to outsiders. All the disparate members could move about the scene disconnected from each other yet all synchronize and apparently decipher clues almost simultaneously. It was impressive and unnerving; it gave the local agents a feeling of being redundant. The scene, despite all the activity, was charged with the quiet intensity of an operating room.

Emily stood in the middle of the cubicle aisle, gazing at the corpses in either direction. The last one killed was obviously the richest. His shoes and the knees of his pants described a pained, confused journey bumbling back and forth between the cubicles. Where the woman's blood pooled he'd left a body print in the carpet. Poor motor control, possibly drugged or at least severely concussed.

The dawn light was only now starting to creep its way down the office halls. This department had no windows, no skylights. If she closed her eyes she could picture the blackness that would've enveloped the whole room. They knew the vomit mixed into the blood stain was his, which meant he'd gone into shock. He hadn't known the bodies were in the room. He either wasn't present or was unconscious during the kills then allowed to wake up inside a real life house of horrors.

"Djinn wants this guy to suffer on every possible level." Morgan voiced Emily's own thoughts, crouched over the victim. Prentiss nodded. The progression of the kills made the UnSub's emotional state obvious.

The woman (too refined and carefully maintained to be a street hooker, but definitely one of the more glamorous professionals) had been stabbed almost surgically in the heart. The sliced throat was merely a means of expediting her death by seconds. Quick, methodical, minimal pain with maximum efficiency. Also, she'd been left on the ground as a victim. The other corpse, the employee, he was staged.

At least, that was what the team figured out from looking at the fallen corpse and its trajectory from an overturned chair in the aisle. Djinn had left him on display. A warning to others? No. There was no one to be warned. What did Djinn want his final victim to see in the staging? Other than something creepy, obviously.

"Since the pattern is that all the male employee victims have a history of drug use, it could be that our UnSub feels they are complicit in the ultimate crime that he's avenging," Reid was circling the overturned chair, reconstructing the scene in his head, "Putting them on display in the open like this – 'look at me, look at what I've done' - The UnSub doesn't see them as victims like the girls. He sees someone that deserves to be punished."

"That would explain the different kill method." Kate had been studying the livid bruises on the employee's throat. Strangling was up close and personal. Stabbing was too but it allowed the killer to back away quickly, to not have to linger and watch the death. With hands around his throat (clearly hands, she could see where the tips of blunt nails had bit into his skin) the UnSub would've stayed staring into the victims face, breathing the same air, guaranteeing that the killer's hate would be their last living sight.

Then the personality changed before the last kill. The first two were precise, controlled. Violent but purposeful, efficient violence. The rich businessman was granted no such mercy. The bruises and crushed bones distorted his entire face to an unrecognizable mass. There were fractures and breaks all over the body, punctured organs and barely any teeth left in his mouth. The sheer intensity of the rage on display had left the entire team speechless for a few seconds when they saw it.

"Now _this_ is the one he wants to suffer. It would take time to do all of this. A slow, brutal, deeply personal death." Rossi murmured.

"ME says it was the punctured lung that finally did him in and there was a lot of damage before that." JJ sighed, feeling the lingering emotional charge clinging to the office. So much terror and pain meeting the overwhelming rage. Perhaps it would be better for the building to get blown up after all. This room was never going to be the same.

"Safe to say our UnSub doesn't have good feelings for the man in charge." Kate concluded, nodding to Hotchner as he walked in and approached the solemn team assembled around the final victim.

"Is it externalized self-loathing?" Hotch studied the pulp of a man. Serial killers found perverse and creative ways to cope with their own self-hate. Some hunted and tortured the people they saw as themselves, others targeted the ones who'd made them feel worthless in the first place. Finding the hate meant finding the killer.

"Certainly could be. Look at the total destruction of the face, it's obliterated. It would make sense that this is someone who hates their image and wants it erased." Emily confirmed. Hotch's gaze swept over the team, waiting for someone to voice the obvious. They were all too well trained. They would wait for his lead.

"Could Arthur Rochester do this?" Hotchner finally asked. He never liked naming suspects before the profile was 100% complete but evidence had whittled the suspect pool down to three and they needed to know which one was about to go crazy.

"The rage part? Absolutely." Morgan nodded adamantly, him and Rossi exchanging a glance of agreement.

"He's been pushed his whole life by his father and competition with his sister to become someone he isn't. He's in a field he doesn't enjoy and a marriage he doesn't appreciate. He's trapped by expectations and a lifestyle he can't walk away from." Rossi confirmed.

Trapped. The word resonated. Trapped like the genies of the stories, bound in tiny prisons and dependent on others.

"He has the rage but not the control," Reid shook his head, frustrated as he tried to force the contradictions in the scene into a single picture, "He's just not capable of this level of organization or discipline."

"Lucky for him then that he has two other people in his life that are." JJ pointed out.

"Alex wouldn't help him do this. There's too much animosity." Morgan eliminated that option. The twins were too divided to come together for something so elaborate.

"She wouldn't help him out of loyalty but out of a need to protect. She'd be guarding what she values most." Rossi countered. He'd seen the resolve in her face; it was the guardian in her that had created Fortress and it would be the same trait that drove all her actions.

"There isn't any evidence she was even in town. My money's still on Courtenay. All the control and training any serial killer could want in a partner and on top of that, completely loyal to him." Kate hadn't forgotten the consuming fire in Nigel's eyes that was so firmly held in check.

"We could always just go arrest all three." Reid suggested, half-jokingly.

"Nigel and Alex really seem like the types who're going to crack in interrogation?" Morgan knew the simple solution wasn't an option. They all did. His phone ringing pulled them from the negative reverie. He smiled at the caller ID.

"You got something for me, baby girl?" he greeted over the speaker phone.

"Just a wicked case of jonesing for your mocha latte goodness." Garcia's quick and salacious come backs never failed to make the whole team smile.

"Well, we gotta work one case at a time, sugar. So help us wrap this one up first." Morgan grinned. Even Hotch had stopped objecting to their innuendo-laden banter. Some battles had to be surrendered to stay in the larger war. Besides, the familiar humor always made the team relax.

"Right. So good news first: the second victim is Bruce Jansen. He's got a record a mile long for drug possession and at least one charge of intent to sell that plead down. He works for a company Fortress audits every year and when he didn't report for work this morning his coworkers said he vanished from a bar last night. It's only a few blocks from you. I've sent the address."

"Rossi?" Hotch looked over to his right hand. They were odd numbered and if anyone could do the work of two, it was the most experienced member of the team.

"On it." Dave nodded, already pulling up the information.

"Next is your rich guy. Rich is putting it mildly. This man makes creosote look sterile. His fingerprints popped from an arrest in Texas a few years back; apparently the lone star state takes a dim view of drunk driving a hummer through a cattle ranch. Emmet Granger, rising oil baron. He was in town for a massive business dinner being hosted by an automotive company headquartered in Philly. The banquet hall is about a mile and a half in the opposite direction."

"Too far to drag an unconscious man without being noticed." Morgan studied the map that was coming up on his tablet, pins dropping in the relative locations.

"True, but look what's right there: a whiskey lounge. Think our Texan might've fancied an after dinner drink?" Kate pointed to the high end bar that split the distance.

"And back alleys connect from there to here." Reid agreed.

"Morgan and Kate, start at the banquet hall, see if you can retrace his steps. Look for any indication Granger ended up at the lounge." Hotch ordered.

"That just leaves the less than stellar news about your female victim," Garcia sighed her frustration, "Still no prints or ID but one of the local cops said he recognizes her from working the Palomar hotel. I cross-referenced the hotel phone and cab company records and found that a guest at the Palomar placed a call to Elegance –an escort company – just seven minutes before Elegance arranged for cab service _to_ the Palomar. I think we can agree your girl was in the cab."

"JJ, Prentiss; go to the escort agency. Get a name for the girl and find out her schedule for the night. Reid and I are going to the Palomar. Good work, Garcia." Hotch ended the call.

"Great, they get the plush hotel and we get the sex workers." Emily rolled her eyes as she and JJ headed for the exit.

"Hotch won't take Reid to talk to prostitutes anymore, they keep hitting on him." JJ informed her with a smirk. Hookers made Reid feel insecure and Hotch feel old.

* * *

_There are times in a case when the whole team holds their breath. Because fragile hope has begun to outstrip fear but to give it voice too soon could kill it._

The Hotel Palomar had offered precious little in the way of information. The bell hops all remembered seeing the blonde escort (who could forget?) but the desk attendants disavowed any knowledge of her providing services to guests. Hotch was arguing with the manager in that subtle, tactful, bullying way he had while Reid lingered on the periphery. In these circumstances he tended to tune out what his team member was doing and turn his senses outward to gather any and every crumb of clue. Across the way, for example, a concierge was speaking to a member of hotel security and his mouth had just formed a very familiar pattern of sound shapes.

Reid's speedily distracted departure interrupted Hotch's conversation. The team leader held up a finger, pausing the frustrating argument and following his agent's instincts.

"Excuse me, did you just say Rochester?" Spencer flashed his badge at the concierge and guard. Both looked perplexed but neither could ignore the credentials.

"Yes, I was just saying that we'll have the things the Rochesters left in the hotel safe couriered back to them." The concierge supplied as he looked between the scary, stern looking man and the oddly energetic but overgrown boy.

"They were both here? The two of them?" Hotch clarified.

"As well as Mr. Courtenay. They always stay here at the Palomar when they're in town. We take excellent care of them." The small man beamed proudly.

"And they've already left?" Reid looked at his watch. Past 9 am now. Djinn had to know the explosion didn't go off as planned.

"I gather business called them away rather suddenly." The concierge nodded before making a solicitous departure to go scold a bellboy.

"So Alex was in town with her brother last night. All three of them right here." Reid and Hotch turned and took in the hotel lobby in all its busy, generous grandeur. A woman like the escort would still stand out. And if she was a regular at the hotel, the Fortress people would've almost certainly recognized her.

"And by now all three are likely on their way back to New York. Or further." Hotch nodded and lead their exit.

* * *

_At these times everyone feels they've caught hold of a thread. A thread so delicate it could break at any moment if they pull too hard yet one that with consistent pressure would undoubtedly come free._

"Three coworkers that were also Jansen's drinking buddies all confirmed the same story. He disappeared from their regular hangout sometime after ten. One says he called to check on Bruce after noticing he'd left and the guy said he was meeting with a Fortress rep to get his record cleared." Rossi's voice over the speakerphone shared what little insight he'd gathered with the others on conference.

"Some of the waiters from last night's dinner remember half a dozen of the more sauced playboys deciding to stumble down the street to the whiskey lounge Kate pointed out. We're just about to go in now and see if Granger was one of them." Morgan added his report.

"The female victim was Celeste Harrow. She's one of 4 escorts Alex hired for her brother from Elegance. One left the area but we're going to interview the remaining two and then come back in." JJ also supplied their status update.

"Alright, everyone be thorough but quick. It's looking like our suspects have spooked and could be on the move. We need to figure out which one to follow and fast." Hotch's orders came back to them all.

"You heard the man. No time for dragging ass." Morgan opened up the door to the whiskey lounge.

"Even if it's our UnSub's?" Kate shot back as they walked in.

"Fair enough. I sure wouldn't mind chaining him up to a trailer hitch for a few miles. Excuse me, my man." Morgan greeted the man behind the bar.

"We don't serve alcohol until noon. I'm just here getting the place cleaned up." The bartender replied, no doubt regretting having left the front door unlocked.

"Not what we're here about," Morgan pulled out his badge, instantly changing the man's entire demeanor, "We're tracing this guy. You see him last night?"

The bartender looked at the blown up driver's license photo.

"Know him? He was hung over my bar here for at least an hour."

"You're sure it was him?" Kate checked. She knew bartenders were infamous for their memories but this seemed like the kind of place where it would be hard to focus on anyone for long.

"You don't forget an accent like that. Texas, huh? Makes sense." He handed the photo back.

"Was he alone?" Morgan pressed. _Inch by inch._

"Guys like him never are. He arrived with a bunch of other rich blowhards but ditched them pretty quick when he got the high sign from a hotty here at the bar."

"He hit on her?" Morgan's brain began shifting gears.

"That might be what he thought he was doing. Mostly he was making an ass of himself but she didn't seem to mind. Funny, I wouldn't have thought she'd go for it." The bartender shook his head wondering.

"Why's that?" Kate jumped in.

"She didn't look like she needed to. She was here drinking scotch that starts at $1,500 a bottle. She knew her stuff, had good taste and definitely was out of his league looks wise. I used to be able to pick out the pros from a mile and I could've sworn she was legit. But watching her play him? He was hooked before he even sat down."

"What else do you remember about her?" Kate held her breath.

"She was tall. Kind of pale like she didn't get outdoors much. Long, dark hair. Great cheek bones. Honestly, if she'd just stepped out of that business wear and into something a bit more slinky she'd have been bunny material, I guarantee." He sighed, no doubt wishing he could redress his memory.

Morgan called up his first and only sighting of Alexandra Rochester. His professional training always overruled any other impulse but for a split second he'd allowed himself to acknowledge that at one time he definitely would've made a move on her. If she weren't part of a case. And a potential killer. And if he weren't completely in love with Savannah. Obviously.

"That was Alex. She was here." Morgan pulled out his phone as he walked away.

"As predator or as bait?" Kate wondered as she quickly followed.

"Both?" Morgan hazarded, dialing Hotch.

* * *

_Then, all at once, the end of the thread comes free and unravels the woven mystery from top to bottom._

JJ sat beside Emily in Elegance's waiting lounge. It was a relief to have a few quiet minutes. Only in stillness could they properly ponder the day's events thus far. Even though their minds were both obsessively going over all the facts neither failed to notice when Emily's hand covered JJ's on the sofa cushion. The blonde smiled to her partner, knowing the touch carried no innuendo or emotion beyond the simple comfort of still being beside each other. How much longer could they have such casual indulgences?

"You met the Rochester woman," Emily turned to JJ, "Do you think she's involved in all this?"

"Is she capable of it? Yeah, I'd say so," JJ called up the memory of the tall brunette so desperately worried about taking care of her sister-in-law when her brother wouldn't, "But she came across with overdeveloped senses of justice and discipline. It would take something powerful to make her break with those values. I don't think covering for her brother or protecting the company's future would be strong enough motivation."

"People can kill for the most meaningless reasons." Emily reminded JJ of some of the senseless wastes of human life they'd seen. Love, hate, revenge, heartbreak; those were the big, meaningful excuses people used. More often the real causes were petty: jealousy, arrogance, boredom, even fun.

"If they're killers by nature, sure," JJ agreed, "That wasn't my read on her. I could be wrong."

"I've never doubted your judgment yet." Emily assured, knowing JJ sometimes struggled with feeling inadequate as the most recently trained profiler. She'd been with the BAU longer than anyone besides Hotch and Rossi but she still couldn't stop thinking of herself as new at the job. JJ smiled thanks and squeezed the hand holding hers, releasing when they heard the clatter of high heels moving towards them at speed.

"Is Celeste really dead? Someone killed her?!" the distraught voice arrived before its owner, high pitches echoing off every wall in the room. The two agents stood and turned in greeting to the escorts approaching from behind them. Both blonde and in their mid to late twenties.

"Her death is being investigated," JJ easily smoothed over the question, "It would really help if you could answer a few questions. Are you up to it?"

"What do you need to know?" the other escort was more contained, eyeing the FBI agents with caution. One of them, anyway. She gave Emily a more thorough once over, not bothering to hide that she was cataloging the brunette from head to toe. JJ felt a familiar amusement at the obvious snoofing but beneath that was a tiny tremolo of irritation. Emily was gorgeous, of course; that didn't mean the escort had to be so blatant about it.

"You've both dealt with the Rochesters in the past. Did you notice anything out of the ordinary with either of them?" JJ rather sharply brought both the girls' attention to herself.

"Oh god. I can't believe- ! Sorry! Okay, uhm," the more hysterical blonde (Cheri, from the agency director's description) fought to bring her emotions under control, "Arthur was kind of stuck on himself. He liked to brag and show off a lot. He got off on compliments and ego stroking. Just your ordinary super-rich middle-aged guy."

"He was kind of fit. Like he must've been really cut years ago but he'd let himself go a bit. Probably all the partying." The other girl (whom JJ had taken a mild dislike towards) had to be Roxy.

"Right, the pills. He was stoned. Alex said he probably would be but that I didn't have to take anything if I didn't want to. She was really nice." Cheri recalled, still wiping away nonexistent makeup trails around her eyes.

"She was," Roxy agreed, "She was pretty scary when we first met and she was asking all those questions but when I figured out it was because she wanted to keep her brother safe? I thought it was really sweet. She was considerate. Always paid in advance plus extra for tip. She made sure a car service was waiting the whole time so I wouldn't have to call a cab. Honestly, I hoped if I did well with Arthur she might hire me for herself next."

"No kidding!" Cheri squealed, "I even gave her my private number and offered to go half price. She never called. I guess I should've gone lower."

JJ's eyebrows shot up, mirroring Emily's own barely contained expression of surprise. The ground hadn't exactly moved, yet both knew that the world had taken a sharp turn.

"What made you think she might employ your services?" Prentiss eased around the question, feeling its edge for the truth they'd missed. Roxy and Cheri exchanged glances before looking back incredulously at the agents.

"Uhm, because she _definitely_ rides the rainbow. I mean, she hides it pretty well. Better than most. But there are little things we're trained to notice. I thought maybe she was in the closet." Cheri's smile was shy but pleased with the revelation of secrets.

"Not that it mattered," Roxy cut in, "Gay, straight or anywhere in between, that woman was completely off limits."

"Because you'd been hired for her brother?" JJ hazarded. They had hold of the edges of the piece, now to see how it fit in the gap.

"Please, I've done kinkier jobs than that. No, that woman was head over heels for someone else. She was totally loyal. The way she looked at me? It was like I barely even registered. She just looked right through me." Roxy elaborated, shifting her position to show off her figure; illustrating that she wasn't used to being ignored.

"Yeah," Cheri chimed in, "Kind of like the two of you." The comment ended in a yelp as Roxy's elbow hit her ribs.

JJ was on her feet without warning. Her mind had already raced ahead of her body.

"Thank you for that information. You've helped tremendously." If the blonde's abrupt closing surprised Emily she didn't show it, following her partner's lead without question.

"Agent," Roxy quickly caught Prentiss' elbow as she turned away, "We would love to be of service the next time you're in town."

That comment brought JJ's mind back to the moment and she turned on her heel.

"She's off limits too." The blonde agent stated as she took hold of Emily's arm and pulled her from the building.

In the SUV Emily looked to JJ for an explanation of the sudden departure. The behavior with the escorts would be an entirely different subject for a later date. Preferably at a time when Emily could thoroughly explore JJ's definition of 'off limits.'

Before Emily could voice any questions the blonde held up a silencing finger, hitting the speed dial on her phone.

_"__Traveling circus of wonderful wisdom, at your disposal!"_ Garcia's voice answered the call.

"Penelope, when did Kara get engaged to Arthur Rochester?" Jareau demanded.

"_Looks like . . .," _they could hear long nails tacking rapidly across her keyboard_, "The summer after their college sophomore year. Yikes! Talk about whirlwind romance. They were married a month after it was announced."_

"When did Alex Rochester drop out and enlist?" JJ thought of the mysterious 2 year time difference in the twins' military careers. They'd paralleled perfectly on so many other things, only the military and university had been different. Something crucial had changed.

_"__She finished the sophomore year in the top 10% but never returned from the summer. Instead she enlisted –oh no. J, she signed her enlistment the day after the engagement was announced."_

"She couldn't watch them get married." Emily murmured, knowing a little too well the pain that would've driven Alex to seek such an escape.

"She was in love with her." JJ finally gave voice to the elusive but obvious fact.

She had heard the faraway hurt in Emily's voice, the recollection of forgotten wounds. The blonde bit her lip, wishing the facts of the case didn't echo so closely with her own memories. She'd never allowed herself to think that there was a connection between her marrying Will and Emily's decision to leave. Now it was so obvious she wanted to travel back in time just to slap herself in the head.

Emily saw the frustrated regret furrowing the other woman's brow. She gently gripped her hand on the console between them.

"It's ok, Jennifer." She promised, soothing away the apology in JJ's injured eyes. Then the blue suddenly brightened and JJ grabbed hold of the hand clutching hers, leaning urgently across the console.

"Je t'ai aimé jusqu'a atteindre la folie." JJ stated, staring hard at her and for a moment Emily's breath caught in her throat. She had never heard Jennifer speak French. She'd never dreamed of hearing such words from her.

"What?" she blinked, grappling with the urge to lean closer and reward such a beautiful confession with a kiss. Emily had forced herself to keep such expressions silent the previous night. She didn't want to pressure JJ into feeling like she had to reciprocate. She could wax poetic adoration in four different languages and manage 'I love you' in at least 5 more. She'd kept the words to herself, however and now they strained at the tip of her tongue.

"I heard it in a dream and thought I'd made it up but I didn't. Je t'ai aimé jusqu'a atteindre la folie," JJ clarified, "I think I heard Alex Rochester say it."

"To Kara?" Emily's head spun as she brought her mind back into proper gear. The sting of disappointment was shoved aside before any of the pain or numbness could follow. This wasn't the time.

"Translate it first." JJ shook her head. She needed to know the words, to know they meant something more than just a jumble of desires spat out by her subconscious in the throes of a sex dream. She watched Emily repeat the phrase to herself; mouthing the sounds and for a second she could hear the words being breathed in her ear again, feel the swell of emotion that threatened to crack her ribs at the tender declaration she couldn't understand but still somehow knew.

"It's a corruption of Francois Sagan's quote. It's supposed to be 'I have loved to the point of madness.' She's changed it. She said 'I have loved _you_ to the point of madness.'" Emily watched comprehension dawning across JJ's face.

"She said it to Kara Rochester, Em; and Kara said she loved her back." The blonde turned on the SUV and peeled out onto the road.

"The marriage didn't end their relationship. They've been together this whole time." Prentiss' mind circled the statement, latching on from all sides. Understanding quickly rushed in and began coloring all the other facts and files.

"This hasn't been about Arthur or Fortress. It's been Kara at the heart of everything all along and Alex is our Djinn." JJ shook her head. It was so obvious now.

"Trapped in a situation she can't change but won't escape. 'Folie' means madness; it encompasses both lunacy and rage." Emily wondered if the female Rochester had chosen her French quote because of the specific duality of its meaning or just because the romantic in her could use no other.

"And she's about to unleash all of it completely because she can't go back anymore."

* * *

_ Reviews and feedback enthusiastically encouraged, requested and enjoyed.  
_


	22. End Game

**Chapter 22**

**End Game**

"The crooked paths look straighter as we approach the end."

-Jean Paul

On the jet, racing time back to New York, the team pooled their collective thoughts as the facts of the case spun around crucial new information. Hotch didn't doubt Emily and JJ's conclusion for a second and when combined with Morgan and Kate's findings, the answer was inescapable. Now they had to work backwards through the details in order to predict the future.

Rossi seemed annoyed and JJ was pretty sure she knew the reason. They were both aggravated with themselves for not having identified the romance between Kara and Alex earlier. Privately, JJ wondered if her own overly intimate relationship with Emily hadn't blurred her perspective. If she hadn't been in denial about her feelings for her friend then maybe she would've caught the parallel signs in the Rochester women.

"It must've started when they met in college. It would've hurt to lose Kara but having her taken by her brother? The one she'd already been competing with her whole life?" Jareau spoke up in order to get out of her own mind.

"That begins a lifetime of rage. Bottled up for this long, no wonder she wants to obliterate him completely." Kate agreed. They all could vividly recollect the destroyed features of the rich victim. In a standard killer it would be a sign of self-loathing but in this case they had a murderer that never saw herself in the mirror but her most hated target. What must it be like for them to wear the same face?

"I don't think she lost her. They either continued the relationship or resumed at some point. They're definitely actively involved now." Emily corrected. She hadn't met either woman but every instinct told her that the French words Alexandra Rochester used were evidence of a longstanding romance. A mutual one.

"I'll second Emily's theory on that. Combing a few decades of records confirms that Kara and Alex stayed in touch the entire time she was deployed." Garcia supplied from the laptop screen, her eyes never making contact with any of them because she was too consumed with scouring data.

"Ten years in love long distance. That's a lot of loyalty." JJ hummed. Her gaze shifted imperceptibly towards Emily and found the brown depths of Prentiss' eyes already watching her. They were both caught on the same thought. A mere two years had nearly killed them. Ten would surely cause madness.

"Not unrewarded, since it looks like after she finished her tour she went two years in London without any home address. Just a PO box." Kate supplied.

"She was living with Kara while Arthur was still overseas." Reid easily concluded.

"Then Arthur comes back and either because of family pressure or demands from her investors, Alex gives him a job. She had to have found out pretty quick about his drug habits and I doubt he only recently started cheating. So why wasn't she killing five years ago?" Morgan questioned the obvious time gap. If this woman was a serial killer in the making from birth and her biggest trigger occurred nearly 20 years earlier, why did she only start killing 2 years before?

"He was made CEO." Rossi pointed out the major event that coincided with the beginning of the killing spree.

"But we decided Fortress _isn't_ at the heart of her resentment towards Arthur." Kate frowned, also trying to follow the trail down this rabbit hole.

"No, but up to that point Arthur was just a public representative for the company. He handled all their relations and most business negotiation while Alex could focus on the actual application of their trade," Reid leapt in, finding his own train of logic, "They wouldn't have seen each other. They didn't even live on the same continents. She might have known about all his indulgences-,"

"Kara certainly did." Rossi thought back to all the books on adultery in Mrs. Rochester's bedroom. She wasn't only obsessed with her own infidelity.

"But Alex didn't have to see them," Reid could absorb interruptions without batting an eye, "Only once he became CEO and started traveling with her for a week or longer at a time did she have to observe all the ways he was hurting Kara. It wasn't just abstract knowledge anymore, it was personal. Her hate for Arthur may always have been the motivation, but it was the time they spent together that inevitably triggered her to kill."

"That's why the timing is so irregular. She could go months without killing so long as she hadn't had to be with her brother." Emily concluded, seeing the last of the pieces fitting together into a coherent image. Love and hate were the two most powerful emotions any of them encountered in this job. They were flip sides of the same coin and Alex's life kept her chained with both.

"I found out something more," Penelope chimed in, "I finally got the RMC's records on Rochester and Courtenay and they were both reprimanded repeatedly and eventually discharged over drugs. Rochester for using them, Courtenay for selling."

"The flagged employees," JJ grasped the parallel, "If the tycoons were symbols of Arthur and the prostitutes all represented his infidelity that means the victims with drug connections also symbolized someone."

"The man that got Arthur addicted and has enabled his habit ever since." Morgan saw the same pattern.

"She's overlapping between anger killing and mission-oriented. Protecting Kara from Arthur and everything he's done has been her purpose. Ultimately, to ensure Kara's complete safety she'll have to kill her brother." Rossi shook his head. If the violence of the previous kills were any indication then Alex's ultimate goal, her final crimes, would be merciless.

"Morgan, you and Rossi need to find Courtenay as soon as we land. Kate, you and I are going to Fortress, perhaps the Rochesters are still there," the tone of Hotch's order suggested his doubt, "JJ, Prentiss, go to the home. Kara Rochester is at the heart of Alex's killing; she may know the ultimate plan. Reid, work with Garcia to compile a list of every property the Rochesters or Fortress have ever touched. Alexandra is almost certainly progressing to her finale. We need to find where she'll go."

Everyone nodded understanding of their orders; an undercurrent of urgency electrifying the solemn air.

* * *

Hotch and Kate felt an escalating sense of anxiety as they rose, unobstructed, through the levels of Fortress Tower. There were no objections, no interceptions, not even a suspicious question aimed their way by an overzealous guard. It was as if the entire company had surrendered to the confusion and fear that permeated every floor.

At the CEO's suite Hotchner immediately registered the absence of the all-too-helpful secretary. Kate noticed the office door slightly ajar. Instinctively they both drew weapons and flanked each other on the approach. The office was dead silent. On the signal from Hotchner they burst through the unlocked doors, discovering chaos within. Every pristine display case had been destroyed. The floor was a nightmare of glass shards and strewn weaponry. Sun through the windows glinted off a hundred metal blades and a thousand slivers of glass, creating a cacophony of rainbows and light over every surface of the room. Each and every historical symbol of pride had been obliterated and scattered across the room. The bedlam became background noise to the centerpiece.

In the middle of the room was the assistant Hotch recognized from his first time interviewing Arthur Rochester. She was sprawled on the carpet, spilled blood long since soaking the fabric to crimson, then black. She'd been stabbed in the heart like the prostitutes but that was only the kill stroke and it hadn't been the first.

"There must be over a dozen wounds, Hotch," Kate murmured, crouching over the corpse, "Alex never showed this kind of rage with the pros."

Hotch was mentally cataloging the many ancient trophy weapons that all had blood on their edges. Her brother's proud collection returned to their original use.

"The prostitutes were still victims in her mind. They were being paid. This woman, she was sleeping with Arthur without it being a job. She wasn't innocent. She was the ultimate example of his infidelities." Hotch easily understood the difference. He didn't agree with it but he could see where Alex drew the line.

"Isn't that a bit hypocritical? I mean, she and Kara have been cheating all this time too." Kate pointed out, rising and carefully stepping around the mess of evidence.

"A psychopath doesn't see themselves as bound by the same rules as others. Even if she did, Alex would see Arthur's infidelity as prurient and narcissistic, whereas she's romanticized her relationship with Kara. Anything they do is justified because they share a higher motive." Hotch pulled out his phone and began dialing Rossi. The dead assistant was absolute proof: Alex was in her end game.

* * *

"Dead? Okay. Any sign of Arthur? Damn. We just got to Courtenay's apartment. It's quiet but we'll go in on alert." Rossi nodded as he listened to Hotch's report. Hanging up the phone, he mouthed the words of a countdown. On zero Morgan kicked the door open, sending the dead bolt flying. Bursting in they rapidly secured the apartment, clearing each room and verifying there was no one present. Well, no one besides the corpse. Both agents had trained their guns on the man's body slumped against the far wall before realizing he would be no threat to anyone. Ever.

"He took a hell of a beating." Morgan frowned, looking down at the swollen face of Nigel Courtenay. They both holstered their guns, tension dissipating from the room as they understood the danger was long past.

"He was a marine. More current on his training and fitter than any of her other victims. He would've put up quite a fight." Rossi agreed, taking in the bruises marring his arms, neck and face. Those were just the visible ones. A few strands of long raven black hair were still tangled in Nigel's limp fingers. Too bad they didn't need DNA now.

"Why not just stab him like the assistant? Or shoot him? She has a license and firearm." Morgan objected. He could see the path the fight had carved through the apartment. From a blitz at the door to a hand to hand struggle that raged from one side of the room to the other. Furniture was overturned, lamps shattered, mementoes scattered to the periphery. This had been an all-out war.

"That would be too quick," Rossi took in Nigel's open, glazed eyes sunk deep in bruised sockets, "She wanted him to suffer. Like the men she strangled, it had to be a personal death. She wanted to be sure he understood exactly what was going to happen to him and why."

"So she's panicking but still willing to take her time. The murders have to be on her terms." Derek concluded. That was actually a good sign. A panicking UnSub might kill rapidly without discrimination. If Alex – Djinn- was sticking to the framework of her previous kills, her story as it were, then they had a chance of stopping her.

"The last victim always got the most attention. She lingered over them, tortured them, destroyed them on multiple levels before finally ending their lives," Rossi moved back towards the apartment door, waking his cell phone, "If she sticks to the pattern then she already has Arthur but he's still alive."

Morgan followed the senior agent out of the room. He paused at the doorway and turned to take a final sweep of the room. Not even the curtains had been left unscathed. It was like the wrath of a vengeful god had been unleashed in this restricted space.

"He'll wish he wasn't." The agent shook his head and turned to exit.

* * *

Emily glanced at JJ's profile as they sped up the road towards Greenhaven. Jennifer had been uncharacteristically quiet since the flight and Emily imagined if she were to touch a finger to the side of the blonde's head she might be burnt by the feverish workings of the brain within. Prentiss knew by the thin-lined set of JJ's mouth and the small lines around her eyes that the agent was berating herself. It didn't take 7 years of friendship or profiler training to know what had spurred the aggravation.

"You aren't the only one." Emily stated, keeping her eyes straight ahead. In her periphery she saw JJ shoot her a look of surprise.

"What?" JJ jerked her eyes back to the road before Emily could turn and decipher every emotion in her face.

"You aren't the only one that sees the parallels, JJ," Prentiss kept her words soft as she rested her hand on the other woman's arm, "They're two women who've been pretending to be friends when actually they were always more. You're beating yourself up for not recognizing the signs."

"I should've seen it sooner, Em." JJ shook her head and two truths met in that single phrase. She should've seen the facts sooner. She should've seen Emily's feelings; should've realized her own. She was trained to be able to see the longing in Kara Rochester's eyes as they followed Alex out of the room and she ought to have recognized the echo of her own ache any time Emily left. She had felt the power of Alex's drive to keep Kara safe and if she'd only thought – only known – then she would have seen it was identical to the security Emily alone could provide in her world. There was so much she should have seen if she'd simply opened her eyes.

"You can't blame yourself, J," Emily's gentle words drew the blonde back out of the recriminations of her mind, "What's important now is finding Alex and you're going to be the best one to do that."

"I'm not. I didn't even see what was going on right in front of me." JJ shook her head. She had confidence in many of her skills. She could comfort grieving families and cities with a single, sensitive smile. She could break down doors and kick UnSub ass like any other member of the team. She could artfully manipulate confessions out of hardened killers. But open interrogation? Confronting someone and demanding answers? Hell, she could barely do it with herself, let alone another person.

"You know Kara Rochester. Absolutely no one else is better equipped to get her talking. No one can know her mind like you do, Jennifer." Emily assured.

JJ allowed her attention to dart off the road for a split second; only long enough to see the determined shine in Emily's eyes. Prentiss was completely confident in her. She always had been. If not for Emily, JJ might never have pushed forward to be anything more than media liaison. She had, though, and Emily had been the voice of encouragement in the back of her mind. Now that same voice spurred her on, convinced of abilities she wasn't sure she possessed.

JJ didn't reply until they'd parked in the circular drive of the mansion. Killing the engine the blonde looked over to (words were hard here. Was it friend or more? Confidant? Future lover? The titles got complicated at this stage) Emily and found radiant conviction pouring into her.

"Thank you, Lucky." Was all she had to say. The simple words earned a dazzling smile before they both headed to the front door in full professional mode.

Their arrival had been expected; to say the least. The door was answered by two ex-military bruisers sporting fatigues, side-arms and scowls. Now _this_ kind of confrontation JJ understood.

"FBI. We need to speak with Kara Rochester." She flashed her badge, noting that neither man even glanced at it. They'd known who was coming. Alex had to have sent them and told them what to expect. Organized to the end.

"No visitors are allowed." The gruff response was delivered with the azoic intellect of a man who'd had to repeat the words several dozen times in order to get them right.

"It wasn't a request." JJ stood straighter, squaring off against the bouncer.

"No visitors. Mrs. Rochester isn't well and our orders are to keep her safe." The other guard was of slightly higher intelligence. This simian could be reasoned with.

"We aren't here to hurt her. We just need her to answer some questions." JJ scolded herself internally. True, they didn't intend to hurt the pregnant woman but from experience she knew the ordeal they were about to put her through.

"Rochester said -," the guards were set on their programming and Emily lost her patience.

"Look, if you force us to get a warrant we will. Then we will pull her from bed rest, drag her into town to sit in a police station interrogation cell and then _you_ can explain to your boss what happens after that." Emily didn't have to threaten when she could guarantee. JJ could almost hear handcuffs in that voice, "Whatever Alex Rochester said doesn't matter because you don't work for her. You work for Fortress and Fortress is run by Arthur; he's your boss. He's in danger and letting us talk to Kara is what's going to save him and your jobs."

The universal military language of hierarchy, threat and danger finally cut through the guards' dense obedience and they stepped aside, issuing reports and orders into their handsets. There was more Fortress muscle distributed through the house; armed sentries meant to be visible and distract from the more dangerous ones that clearly weren't. JJ and Emily made their way up the stairs, hairs prickling as eyes tracked their every move.

Kara Rochester was waiting for them. She'd risen in bed to sitting position despite the nurse's fussing protests. JJ was taken aback by the change in the woman. When they'd last met, Kara was calm, sweet, patient. Now the hard set of her eyes screamed with rage that she probably would have acted on if she weren't physically incapable.

"What did you do to her?" she demanded before both agents were even in the room.

"Mrs. Rochester, we haven't done anything to Alex. We're trying to find her. If you think she's in danger it's all the more urgent that you help us." JJ reasoned, hoping they could find a calm resolution to the tension filling the room.

"Go to hell. You want to lock her up. You'll take her away and I am _not_ letting that happen." The ferocity in her voice was impressive and JJ found herself momentarily admiring that determination. Bed-ridden, helpless, her lover absent, her husband missing, her house besieged by former soldiers and the FBI at the foot of her bed; she should've been confused, frightened even. She clearly wasn't. She was fueled by righteous anger, a passion that would sooner die than surrender.

"She may have your husband, Mrs. Rochester. We've found two people dead already –," Emily started to use the more emotional plea but was cut off.

"I don't care. Alex is only doing what she has to. She'll make sure we stay together no matter what." The immediate dismissal of threats and death with such disdain and conviction evoked a gut sense of emotion in JJ.

The woman genuinely didn't care what her lover may have done. She probably already knew. And it didn't matter. People could be killed, families destroyed, cities ruined and none of it mattered in the face of Kara's all-consuming devotion. The sheer selfishness of it (what did she think was going to happen to her unborn children?) exposed the core of her reality. Being with Alex was the only thing she cared about; in the fire of her eyes JJ knew she would happily let the whole world burn so long as she kept her love.

A shudder ran down JJ's spine as she recognized what she had to do.

"Kara, do you know what happens when a mission-oriented killer knows they're about to get caught?" JJ saw the tilt of Emily's head acknowledge her intent, "They go into what we call their end game. The pursuit of their final, ultimate target so that they can finish their work. At any cost. Their own survival is secondary. Do you understand what that means? Alex thinks it's more important to kill her brother than to live for you."

"That's not true. She's keeping us safe. She'd never leave me." Kara shook her head vehemently. Jareau could see where the conviction in the blonde's voice was the truth most fundamental to her being. She defined herself by that absolute faith. JJ hated herself for what she was about to do.

"She's not here," Jareau pointed out, "She's left you, _again._ Just like she left 17 years ago when you married Arthur because her pain was more important than your love."

"No, she called. She wrote. We talked constantly. It was like she wasn't really gone." Kara's eyes held the far-away glisten of memory. JJ's ribs ached. She knew exactly that pining affection. The agony of being apart bearable only by the thrill of any moment together.

"But she was. She didn't stay and help you. If she loved you so much why did she even let you marry someone else in the first place? She didn't fight for you. She ran away." JJ had inserted the crowbar of doubt into Kara's steel resolve. The words were coming up from deep inside herself now, truths and realities she'd never let herself consciously entertain had to be dredged up and expressed. This was her way in and she knew the path. She knew every painful step that they were both going to walk.

"She came back." Kara protested but her expression was beginning to waver with uncertainty; questions rising up behind her resolve.

"Yes, she did," it took all of JJ's discipline not to let her eyes flicker to Emily, "And then she left again. She comes and she goes. You can't keep her even though you try. She never stays. She never even offers to take you along. If you're really so important then why didn't your rich, highly skilled, internationally connected, globe-trotting girlfriend try to take you with her? Maybe she doesn't love you as much as you love her."

Emily, standing a few feet away, stayed completely rigid. She fixated her attention on Kara, watching for signs she was near breaking. She forced herself to focus on how the words applied to the other woman rather than hearing the echoes, the words JJ might have been saying to her. Both agents could see the distraught woman was close to cracking. Jareau glanced up at Emily, a flash of pleading in her eyes. Whether it was for permission or forgiveness, Prentiss couldn't tell, she gave a tiny nod. Jennifer could do whatever she had to.

"Maybe this time she's leaving because you're going to have a family. You must've thought of that when you found out you were pregnant. How was Alex going to feel? She probably thinks having children will change your love for her. After all, what mother doesn't want the baby's father in the picture? How could she possibly hope to compete? She'll leave you to play happy family even though she _knows_ you couldn't ever be happy without her. You don't even want to live without her but she isn't asking you, is she? She makes these decisions that rip your heart out and has she asked even once what you want?"

"She doesn't have to!" Kara partially lunged forward, gripping the bedcovers in white knuckled fists, "She knows what I want because it's her. It has always been her and it always will be. I have loved her for 20 years and not once have I let her go! I will _not_ lose her!"

The sobs that burst with each word turned into a long moan of pain. Kara doubled over, clutching her belly as her tears gave way to louder cries. The nurse that had been standing shell-shocked in the corner sprang over, checking her vitals.

"Heart rate and pressure are spiking," she palpated Kara's abdomen, "She's contracting." The darkly serious look she fixed on both FBI agents was one that promised recriminations later but demanded action now.

"She's in labor." JJ breathed, recognizing the signs and flashing back to her own (far less stressful) experience.

Emily grabbed the closest phone from the bedside table and punched in 911, urgently issuing demands and instructions.

"Bus is on its way." She promised, trying to mask her own panic that escalated with every moan of pain.

"Then you can wait outside!" The nurse snapped at them both, still glaring daggers.

In the hallway JJ ran her hands over her face, smoothing back her hair and wishing she could push the turmoil away as easily.

"You had to try, JJ. You were almost through to her." Emily assured, seeing the guilt and worry eating at her.

"Twins with complications and three weeks early," Jareau groaned, "I shouldn't have pushed her so hard."

"It helped, JJ. She said she knows Alex won't leave her and she's completely convinced. She must know it for a fact. Wherever Alex has Arthur, she won't have gone far. She isn't fleeing the country. She's somewhere close. We can find her." Emily rubbed one reassuring hand over JJ's arm as if to bring warmth back to her. JJ gratefully accepted the small gesture of comfort. After everything she'd had to say, the way she could see certain words hitting Emily like shards of hail in a storm, she needed all the solace that simple touch offered.

The blonde started to take Emily's hand in a return of thanks but met the touch of plastic. Kara's phone. Emily was still holding it. Penelope had told them all that Arthur, Nigel and Alex's phones were off, completely untraceable. Might Alex have sent a final message before embarking on her last mission? Given her a location or rendezvous even?

JJ took the phone from Emily's surprised fingers and began going through it. No messages. No list of calls sent or received besides the 911. Rather than being disappointed, JJ felt a thrill of suspicion. She vaguely registered the faraway noise of a siren coming closer. No identification. No contacts. JJ held her breath, excitement tingling up her every nerve as she understood what she was seeing.

"Emily," she breathed in amazement, "It's a burner."

The brunette's eyes widened at the information, also grabbing the phone and confirming for herself. She looked up at JJ, mirroring her animated expression of triumph. One burner meant two.

"We can find her." Emily grinned. The front door below burst open and EMTs scrambled in. The two women rushed for the exit.

"I'll go with Kara." JJ supplied as she headed to the ambulance. They both knew exactly what needed to be done.

"I'll call Hotch and get the trace set up. I'll alert you as soon as it's ready. Remember to keep her on the phone as long as possible!" Emily agreed, running to the SUV. Adrenaline raced in their blood as the impossible-seeming goal was now scant inches from their grasp. They could find Alex. They could stop her.

* * *

_Reviews and commentary encouraged. Criticisms entertained. Lunatic rantings recorded and sold to bloggers.  
_


	23. Death Wish

**Chapter 23**

**Death Wish**

"Oh dire, dreadful death, you drag your heels.  
Why dawdle and draw back? You drown my heart."  
― Simon Armitage

(_The Death of King Arthur: A New Verse Translation__)_

JJ watched Kara Rochester struggling with her contractions, the pain making way for the first tendrils of fear in her eyes. Her badge had let her into the White Plains Hospital delivery suite despite not being a 'designated support person.' Her mission kept her right at the woman's bedside awaiting the moment she got the go ahead from Emily. It was her memories, however, that brought her hand to grip Kara's; the strong hold a promise that she wasn't alone.

JJ recalled how much that physical contact had meant to her. As the pain had grown disorienting and the latent anxieties twined with rushing adrenaline it became harder and harder to not panic, to hold onto reality. The hand that gently cradled hers had been grounding. It had been a lifeline. It had been Emily. The joy and relief of finally holding Henry for the first time had wiped out most of the memories of that day but now, in the oddly mirrored circumstances, everything was coming back to her.

The events of her labor had rapidly spiraled out of her control. Garcia and Emily had whisked her from BAU to the hospital. They had used badges, guns and threats of wiping out the entire accounting department's computers to ensure they stayed at their friend's side the entire time. Garcia kept trying to get through to Will but he was stuck in a shootout on the far side of DC. For the first entire half of her labor, it had been Emily beside her. Emily that wiped away the sweat from her face and told her everything was going to be ok. She promised Henry would be healthy and Will would be there soon but until then she wouldn't leave her side. She had smiled so encouragingly and her eyes positively danced with excitement. JJ could focus on her and believe it was all true. At least until the next wave of back-breaking pain. Emily never let out even a murmur of sound when each contraction made JJ crush the bones in her hand.

Much like Kara was doing to JJ's finger now. The agent squeezed back, murmuring the same assurances she remembered needing so badly to hear. Kara didn't seem to be listening.

"Please. I need Alex!" the woman moaned, sweat beading across her forehead. JJ glanced at her phone. No word yet but it had to be any minute. Garcia could set up traces in her sleep.

"We're trying to find her, Kara. I know you want her here." Jareau still felt the nausea of guilt over her earlier emotional manipulation. The woman was already in a high risk pregnancy with the person she loved most absent and in danger. Now she was confused about her relationship and frightened she'd never see Alex again. The fears JJ had felt over Henry's birth couldn't begin to compare.

"You can't hurt her. Please don't." Kara locked onto JJ's eyes then, begging; clenching frantically at the agent's hand out of a pain that had nothing to do with her body.

"We're going to bring her in." Jennifer assured, hoping her voice held all the confidence and promise she didn't feel. Dead or alive, they would bring her in. Gratefully, she could break the intense eye contact when her phone buzzed an alert.

_Ready. Keep her on the phone._ JJ smiled. It might ultimately be their way of finding Alex, but it would also help Kara and she desperately wanted that.

"We can call her, Kara. You need her right now, tell her what's going on." She held up the burner phone. Kara looked at the phone like it was both lifeline and grenade. Some rational part of her mind was still fighting, still refusing to let the FBI anywhere near her missing lover. That ration was shredded by the next spasm of pain that clenched her whole body. Collapsing backwards with a gasp Kara gave JJ the number to dial. Even with the noise of monitors and medical personnel, the ringing speakerphone was all either woman could hear.

_"__Kara? What's wrong?" _Alex's voice picked up on only the second ring. No longer than it would take to pull the phone from a pocket and fumble to accept the call. JJ's relief fused with pride that she had been right. This was how they were going to catch her.

"Alex, I'm at the hospital," a pause as another ripple of pain seized her, "Are you safe? Can you come? I need you."

_"__Kara! Call the cops! Alex has gone nuts! She-," _Arthur's voice was cut off by the distinct sound of knuckles hitting bone followed by curses in two tones.

_"__Kara, I have to finish something. It's going to be ok. I love you."_ It was hard to tell over the distant speakerphone whether Alex was choking on tenderness or apology. The line went dead.

"Alex? Alex! Alexandra!" Kara tried to sit up to reach for the phone but two nurses gently held her back. She pounded a fist into the mattress, tears running down her face. Everything was out of control. Her body, her life, her world. Jareau's heart ached for the woman, wishing she could do more.

JJ checked her phone again. It hadn't been a very long call. Was it enough? Just as she was about to send the question, the answer popped up.

_We have the address. Going in with SWAT. Stay with Kara._

JJ smiled. She had intended to do just that. She started to type a reply but hesitated. What exactly did she want to say? Emily was about to go in with the rest of the team to apprehend a violent serial killer who'd taken a hostage and showed every sign of being in the final stages of devolution. She wouldn't hesitate to kill anyone that she saw as in the way of her last act. They'd all faced that situation before. What was she going to say? Be careful? Be safe? Emily already knew do that. They all did. Good luck? That went without saying. She thought of Alex's words to Kara – the goodbye laced into every syllable. JJ needed to say just the opposite.

_Call me when it's over._ She typed the message in. Whether it was minutes or hours, JJ knew the first person she wanted to hear from after this crisis passed was the one who'd gotten her through every one before.

* * *

"Garcia, what do you have on the address?" Hotchner asked as the fully lit SWAT trucks and SUV's sped to their destination.

_"__Just your average beach house. It doesn't show up as connected to either the Rochester's or Fortress,"_ Garcia's flying fingers were probably close to setting her keyboard on fire, _"It does, however trace to Kara's family. It's been their summer home for nearly fifty years and, ah, here we go! Just five years ago the property was signed over to Kara but under her maiden name."_

"Pen, does Alex Rochester have _any_ properties under her name in New York?" Kate's mind was reaching for the next, almost inevitable, answer. From the back seat, Emily already knew the coming words.

_"__Not one."_

"She lives at the cottage when she comes from London," Hotch nodded his understanding of the point, "Close to Kara and invisible to her brother."

The vehicles closed off the dead end street, enclosing the lone property. The team climbed out, gear on and weapons ready. The house was quiet, no lights on the outside and only a faint glow from the windows of the garage. Hotch nodded for Rossi and Reid to check the light while SWAT secured the perimeter.

"They're both in there," Rossi reported as soon as he came back, "No cars, plenty of room. He's injured but not restrained. She has a gun but isn't using it."

"She's going to drag it out and make him suffer as much as possible." Morgan concluded easily.

"There's a problem," Reid had taken longer to return from peeping in windows, "She has the garage wired with explosive. I think she's holding the remote."

"Clean up for her final crime scene." Hotch murmured, all of them absorbing the weight of the information. This changed all strategy.

"Why this one but not Nigel or the secretarty?" Kate demanded. She was still getting used to the entirely unpredictable nature of UnSubs and the frustration of fixating on the wrong patterns.

"Because this one can be connected to Kara. It's her husband and her house. Alex is determined that Kara shouldn't suffer any consequences for what happens here." Emily supplied easily. Some UnSubs were easier to understand than others. Right now she could see the threads of Alex's plans and motivations as clearly as her own second nature. The way Hotch was watching her as she spoke, she had a feeling she knew what he was about to say.

"Prentiss, you and Morgan go in the side door to the garage. See if you can get her distracted. Keep her from hitting the detonator. Rossi, you and Reid go in the front to come around from inside the house. Callahan and I will cover from the windows. SWAT is going to want to open the garage door but if that happens Alex will blow the building. We have to get her to surrender before they lose patience."

"And before she kills Arthur." Emily added, knowing that would be the harder part of the equation.

* * *

"Get her back!" Kara screamed, her whole face red with exertion. The last hour of labor had been agonizing and the doctor's still didn't think she was close. This could go on for hours more. JJ was getting exhausted just from watching.

"We're trying, Kara, we think we can –," she tried to soothe the distraught woman.

"No! On the phone! She hung up on me, dammit! How could she?!" Kara demanded, "I am not doing this alone! Get her back!"

JJ forced herself not to smile. That note of stubborn anger could only rise up from desperate affection. She'd had felt similar waves of righteous fury when Emily refused to come back to BAU. How could she? The thought echoed her own indignation.

She hesitated with her thumb on the redial. Would calling Alex be a good idea with the team about to move in? It would distract her from their approach but it would also put more pressure on her that might lead to impulsive behavior. Not to mention if things didn't go well . . .

"Call, Dammit!" Kara commanded again and the wild look in her eye declared that if JJ didn't hit the button then the woman was going to use the monitor cords to strangle her on the spot.

Emily _had_ said to keep Alex on the phone as long as possible. This could just be part of that order. JJ hit the call.

_"__Kara," _Alex's voice was remarkably calm despite labored breath from some exertion_, "Is it going ok?"_

"No! Dammit, Alex! I need you," Kara's anger vanished to yearning, "Please, I need you with me."

_"__I want to be there, love, I do; but-,"_

"I know you can't come, Alex," Kara had calmed markedly as soon as her lover's voice was in the room again, "But don't hang up on me. Please, I need you. Stay with me."

_"__Kara, that might not be wise."_ The sigh of regret in her voice was sincere. Still Djinn, still trapped. Now, more than ever.

"I don't care what happens," Kara shook her head, "Whatever you have to do. Please, Alexandra, please don't hang up. Promise me."

There was a long pause, the sound of a phone getting set down and when Alex's voice returned it was clearly over speaker.

_"__I promise. I'm here."_ The assurance brought a sob of relief from Kara and she stared gratefully at the ceiling, ready for the next waves of pain.

Over the speaker JJ could make out footsteps moving away from the phone and over a more echoing distance she could barely make out the woman's voice addressing someone else.

_"__Where were we?"_

* * *

Having crept undetected up to the garage door, Emily peeked in the window. She'd seen Alex Rochester answer her phone and then carefully place it on the tool bench. Arthur was climbing off the floor, obviously dazed. He had gotten hold of a wrench and gripped it like a club, swinging angrily at his sister who made no move to disarm him. She dodged and deflected his blows and with every attack she turned and retaliated with punishing force.

They had each other amply distracted. Emily nodded to Morgan, it was time to try the door. They eased it open, surprised at how much sound flooded out of the crack.

"Damn it, Alex! You're going to pay for this. You'll go to jail! Fortress will be mine." Arthur spat blood after a fierce kick sent him crashing against the far wall. He hadn't relinquished hold of the wrench though. From the speaker of the phone on the bench Emily could make out Kara Rochester's voice, obviously in distress; alternating between calling for Alex and cries of pain.

"Please, Arthur. Do you really think I care anymore?" Alex laughed in disbelief. Her gun was tucked into the back of her trousers and one hand waved the remote detonator almost casually, "I would go to jail forever just to be sure you were gone for good."

"I'm not going anywhere! You're the one going away! They'll lock you up for life and you'll never see the light of day again!" Arthur lunged at her again, swinging too wide and Alex landed a blow to his diaphragm, dropping him to his knees.

"You let yourself get sloppy, Arthur. Your reflexes are slow. Your strength is scant and your coordination?" she tsked, "I can't believe you survived the RMC. But then you didn't, really, did you?"

Emily and Morgan slipped in through the door undetected but Arthur saw them and by the expression in his eyes Alex must've known.

"Whoever is behind me should look at the corners of the garage." She stated, not turning and giving anyone sudden reasons to start shooting. Even as the FBI agents glanced at the plastic explosives they could see small green lights turning angry red on each package.

"SEMTEX. Your favorite." Morgan acknowledged.

"And it's now active. Shoot me and a quarter of an acre and everything on it are going to hell." She held up the remote, secured with her finger on the trigger.

"You crazy bitch!" Arthur jumped to his feet to charge her. She sidestepped, caught his shoulder and slammed him onto the work bench, "Why?! Why are you doing this?!"

"Why?" Alex growled into his ear, staying close to his face but keeping her eyes on Morgan and Emily as they took up flanking positions, "You dare ask that after all these years? You're going to pretend to not know?!"

Arthur was flying between rage and panic, neither response ever gripping him long enough to make sense.

"Fortress? Because the board made me CEO?" he demanded, fighting the grasp that had him breathing in auto fluids and old rust.

"God, you're a moron. Yes, Arthur. It was Fortress. And the RMC. And Oxford and the god damned cricket team and every other thing I worked for and earned and you had to come along and ruin!" She rolled her eyes. Emily noted that Kara wasn't mentioned. Her list of grievances was building up to it. Morgan was moving to the far side of the garage, a spot Alex couldn't see and the tactician in her wouldn't allow that. She released her hold on her brother, backing away to keep all three potential threats easily in view.

"I haven't ruined anything!" Arthur snarled, readying another attack. Emily kept her weapon trained on Alex but continued in closer. She needed to get between the twins, to get Arthur out of the garage and to safety.

"I've watched you, Arthur! I've ignored the pills and hired the hookers and watched every bad decision you make and dollar you waste without caring. You're destroying everything because you don't care because you never earned any of it." Her voice was anger laced with melancholy, mourning for everything she had watched him squander. Even with two guns trained on her and a victim wielding a weapon she seemed in no hurry to rush the conclusion. She'd been practicing for two years; waiting for nearly twenty if not her whole life.

"I earned plenty!" Even Arthur rushing her yet again wasn't going to make her cut this moment short. Instead she used a roundhouse kick that sent him sprawling onto his back. She was in complete control. That was actually a good thing. She wouldn't set off the explosives as long as she was enjoying her revenge.

"You didn't earn a bloody thing. I got a scholarship to Oxford. You never would've even gotten in if daddy hadn't paid all the right people." She stood over him and spat her loathing.

"He needed someone to keep an eye on you!" Arthur rose on his elbows but not off the floor, "Good thing he did, too. It wasn't even end of the first semester before you were shaming the family."

"I was top of my class after first exams!" Alex argued, showing a flash of confusion that buoyed Arthur's confidence.

"You were shagging your room mate! Did you really think we wouldn't know? We could tell, Alex! I knew and dad knew," He shakily rose to his knees, movements betraying the damage wrought by Alex's blows, "And it might have taken Kara's parents longer to figure it out but they did! Why did you think they made her marry me?"

"I know that, you asshole." The darker timber in Alex's voice matched the shift in her face. Arthur had found a nerve. That was a dangerous thing to do with an unstable serial killer holding a detonator. Emily prayed the man would hear the threat and shut up.

"'Course, when we started dating I did wonder. She was so sweet; a proper lady and too beautiful for words and I could hardly imagine her with the likes of you," Rather than being warned, Arthur was clearly enjoying taunting his sister, "But then I got her into bed that first time and I knew."

"Arthur. . . .," the menace of Alex's growl was the beginning of control breaking. Her free hand was twitching to move for her gun but what little sense of self-preservation still lingered in her rage stayed her reach. Pulling the gun meant the FBI agents would have to shoot her. She wasn't ready to die just yet.

"I knew because she screamed your sodding name! But you know? I didn't mind. I didn't because even if she was calling your name and talking to you in her sleep she was doing it in _my_ bed and that meant I won. I got her, Alex. I beat you!" Despite all the blood and bruises, smug triumph was clear on his face.

For a split second Emily saw Alex's eyes turn towards the plastic explosives. The final solution. Arthur's arrogant ranting was goading Alex to use it.

"That's not true!" Prentiss stepped forward, jerking Alex's attention to herself as she holstered her weapon, "Alexandra, we both know he's wrong about that. He's the one that doesn't know. That's why you brought him here, isn't it? He doesn't know what this place is. Tell him."

Emily caught Morgan's nod of approval. He'd keep his weapon on Alex but Prentiss had charge of the situation. If anyone could talk the woman down, it would be her. The female Rochester regarded the agent, sizing her up and looking for tricks. Suicidal anger had muddled her concentration. Warily, she looked back and forth between Emily and Arthur, weighing the choices.

"This is where you two meet, isn't it?" Emily had to keep Alex focused on herself, on Kara, on anything other than her control-shattering rage, "Any time you're in this country it's to be here with her. Probably every time Arthur is off entertaining investors or impressing clients or cheating with any one of the dozens of women he has on the side. That's when Kara is here with you, right? He thinks she calls for you in her sleep because of a memory. He doesn't realize it's because you might have been lying beside her the night before."

"WHAT?" Arthur's entire face went purple as his veins throbbed with anger. Alex's attention shot back to him, her hand on the remote trigger twitching with movement.

"Kara was never in love with Arthur!" Emily said more loudly, penetrating the bubble that kept trying to isolate the twins into their own world of angers, "He said so himself, her parents forced her to marry him. She's been in love with you this whole time. She still is. Listen to that, Alex." Emily pointed to the speakerphone, almost forgotten in the tension.

"_Alex! Please!"_ Nearly on cue Kara's desperate call broke the silence, crying with pain and tears in her voice.

"You, Alex. She's calling for you. She needs you, not him." Emily reiterated, seeing her audience grow uncertain. Arthur was seething on the side, the wrench rattling as it shook in his fist.

"I have to keep her safe." Alex stated. The simple fact one of the only things she could clearly see. Emily continued to ease closer. She needed to be close enough to take the remote from Alex's hand. She was only a few feet away now.

"I know. Because you love her. When you love someone all you want is for them to be safe and happy."

* * *

In the delivery room, JJ strained to hear every word in the tense negotiation. Even Kara's volume had grown more subdued as they stayed riveted to the distant situation, imagining they could hear the barest shift of each person's thoughts. JJ knew Emily would be moving closer to Alex now, trying to talk her down and get the remote away. She'd be reaching out to her, hands open in a soothing but suppliant appeal.

_"__When you love someone all you want is for them to be safe and happy. No matter what it takes. No matter the cost. That was all you wanted for Kara. You were even willing to leave and let her be with Arthur. You thought it would be easier for her; better for her."_

JJ forced herself to focus on the picture in her mind. Emily reasoning with the UnSub, determined to accomplish their mission. Emily doing her job, trying to get everyone out safe. She couldn't listen to the words. She didn't have to. Even from the intense sincerity of her voice, JJ could hear that Emily was reaching out to Alex with her own identical experience.

_"__You put your own feelings aside and left because you thought she would be happy with him. She wasn't, though. She needed you. She was suffering. Only you could help but then you didn't know what to do other than give her all the love and protection you could find."_

JJ only knew she was holding her breath when her lungs started to burn. Then she forced herself to breathe; rapid, shallow breaths that mirrored her speeding heart.

_"__I'd do anything for her." _The resolve in Alex's voice was cracked at the edges by the helplessness she'd been fighting for years.

_"__I know you would. Which is important because Kara needs you to do something. For her. She needs you to stay. You heard her on the phone, I talked to her at the house. She wants you to stay with her. To stay alive. As long as you're alive it doesn't matter how far apart you are because you'll always have each other."_

There was a pause, JJ imagined she could hear the shifting of feet. Emily coming closer? Or Alex changing her stance, slowly giving in?

_"__She needs that, Alex. She needs _you." The words were absolutely certain, impossible to reject.

_"__I couldn't leave her."_ Alex's declaration was a surrender of defeat. She might've fought her brother, the company, the entire FBI and the world beyond but she wouldn't fight what Kara needed. JJ let out a sigh of relief, visualizing the deactivated remote being pressed into Emily's hand.

_"__You BITCH!"_ Arthur's bellow was swallowed by the sudden exchange of gun fire and chaos. JJ went white, both her shaking hands clutching the phone violently. Over the noise of Kara screaming in horror Jennifer could barely hear herself yelling Emily's name.

* * *

_Everyone's feedback has been amazing throughout this story. I'm really grateful. Stay with me, people, we're almost done.  
_


	24. Aftermath

**Chapter 24**

**Aftermath**

Long for me as I for you, forgetting, what will be inevitable, the long black aftermath of pain.  
-Malcolm Lowry

JJ's numb fingers dropped the phone. She barely heard the noises from the tiny speaker; people yelling, machinery being worked, sirens and orders creating a wall of sound that did nothing to penetrate the ringing silence encompassing her world. She couldn't hear Kara's cries anymore or the shouts from the doctors as the additional stress pushed her into the final stages of labor.

Emily. What happened?

The terror twisted her gut so hard it left her lungs bruised as she gasped for air. This couldn't be happening. They were so close. They were going to finish the case and sit down together and figure out what to do. What to do? All JJ wanted was to have Emily holding her, promising everything was going to be alright the way she always did because only when Emily said those words could she believe they were true.

It wasn't right. They hadn't had a chance to talk; JJ never got to discuss with Emily how everything would work going forward. They needed to decide what to do about Will, what to say to him. What to say to Henry. What about London? What about the BAU? JJ hadn't been able to think of any of it because her head had still been reeling from the moment her world spun around that kiss and now it had been sent spinning again. This time it felt like she would fall off.

She'd wrenched up all the doubts in her own heart in order to shake Kara Rochester and she'd seen Emily listen and absorb every one. In the final minutes of negotiation with Alex, JJ heard Emily's reply. All the confession and assurance, the regrets and promises had released from the depths of Emily's vault of secret emotions and reached out to Alex and to JJ beyond. They had been pouring themselves out to each other all this time. They just hadn't been able to speak face to face yet. What if they never could?

An active imagination could be a curse in the FBI and JJ found hers suddenly caught in a war between dreams and despair. JJ's mind was full of wishes and fears rampaging back and forth. Emily reclining in her bed at night, dark eyes full of invitation. Emily gasping in a pool of blood as she asphyxiated on her own fluids from the gunshot wound, her whole body twitching to cling to life. Emily playing with Henry, telling him stories from around the world before getting tired of all the 'whys' and wrestling him to the floor for tickling. Emily, lifeless, beautifully vibrant eyes turned dead and staring vacant into space. Emily's appreciative gaze sweeping JJ's form before taking her arm to enter the family dinner. Emily speaking her name, a whisper of never ending love. Emily calling her name, desperate not to die alone.

JJ hadn't cried. Not yet. The shock had silenced all possible reactions and walled off every emotion out of the sheer terror that if she let herself feel anything it would be everything and she would break.

_I was so close to having you, Em. I didn't even . . . I never got to. .._ The first tears burned in her eyes, threatening to fall. JJ's phone rang.

* * *

Emily woke with her face throbbing, her head nothing but a bruise. The feel of her hands and the smell on her clothes told her she'd been in blood. The rapid turn of events in the garage now clogged her mind, making everything dizzy. She fought to control the tempest in her head and play back the progression in slow motion.

_Alex had looked to Emily with a sad smile of defeat. She flipped a switch on the remote, the flashing red lights of the plastic explosives going back to green. Prentiss let out a breath of relief. They were going to be fine. Just as the detonator was pressed to her hand, Emily heard Arthur screaming and turned to see him lunging forward. By the time she realized he wasn't aiming for Alex it was too late to react and the blow sent her flying. The answering gunshots amplified the ringing in her ears and she lay stunned on the concrete for seconds that felt unending. When she finally pushed herself off the ground she spotted Morgan rushing to her from across the room._

Sort of like now. Emily smiled as Morgan rose from his chair and approached her side. The sterile room with over-compensating attempts at homey touches told her exactly where she was.

"Hey there, sunshine." He greeted with the familiar smile that pretended he'd never been worried at all.

"Morgan, what happened? How did I get here?" she looked around the hospital room. Moving her head made it spin so she opted to hold still.

"You don't remember? Arthur came after you; guess you hit a nerve. When Alex pulled her piece Hotch had to take her down but she still got her shot in."

Shot. Right. Alex shot Arthur.

_Climbing to her feet, Emily saw the collapsed Rochesters; eerily identical even in their pools of blood. This wasn't supposed to happen. She couldn't stand up straight without her head exploding but Emily staggered to the bodies. UnSubs weren't supposed to get shot for protecting FBI agents from a rampaging hostage. It was all wrong. They were all going to walk out of here alive. They'd been so close._

_The garage door opening let in a flood of armed and armored personnel. Hotch was heading towards Arthur. Rossi moved to Alex but Emily was already beside her. She had to say something. There needed to be some apology, some thanks she could offer. Before she could think of the words, Emily saw Alex's mouth move._

_"She's alive! Get a bus!"_

Emily knew she'd found the gunshot on Alex's torso and put pressure on it, trying to stem the bleeding. The shot had been close but not a kill. Emily had ridden in the ambulance, watching as Alex's eyes fluttered, trying to open; fighting for consciousness.

_"Stay with me, Alex. You're going to be ok. You have to stay awake, though. Come on. Think of Kara, It's going to be ok." Emily had urged her over the noise of machinery and indecipherable medical communication. She held onto the other woman's hand, as she had so many other victims, praying this one had the same will to live that she'd had to kill._

_Alex's eyes never opened, her mouth barely could be seen to move under the oxygen mask but Emily could feel sporadic twitches of her fingers; tiny responses to her words. She was listening. She was fighting._

_"I know you can hear me. You have to stay. For Kara. Stay." Emily felt a swell of relief as on each repetition of the command she felt the flutter of frail response in her hands. Stay . . . Stay._

"Alex Rochester?" Emily looked to Morgan, pulling herself out of the memory.

"She's still in surgery. You know doctors. They don't say anything for sure until the stitching is done but the EMTs all seemed optimistic. They said it was rare for anyone to stay conscious the whole ride with that much blood loss." Morgan explained.

"She'd decided not to leave." Emily marveled. Alex had said she couldn't abandon Kara again and she kept her word. Now she remembered racing into the ER behind the EMTs, watching them rush Alexandra to surgery.

_Only when the woman was safely in the hands of the medical team did Emily allow herself to stop. She rested her hands on her knees, light-headed from all the hysteria and adrenaline. She vaguely heard a nurse approach her, asking about an obvious injury. Prentiss looked up, the bright lights piercing her eyes and blurring her vision._

_"Just my head." She'd joked, knowing it was becoming her trademark. Then the nurse vanished in brightness that turned completely black._

"I passed out?" Emily cringed at the recollection.

"That's what the doctor said when we got here. Guess that stubborn streak of yours decided the concussion could wait 'til the job was over." Morgan grinned. Emily smiled too, until a nagging voice in her mind caught on his words.

Over. Over was important. Another piece of the nightmare flashed to her mind. In the background of the chaos, under the ringing in her ears and the noise of people rushing in, Emily had heard her name. She'd heard JJ calling for her.

"Oh god!" she sat bolt upright, nausea and dizziness be damned, "I have to call J!"

"Hey, whoa, whoa. Easy, Tiger," Morgan's hand on her shoulder kept her from leaping out of the bed, "She knows, ok? We're at White Plains, samehospital where Kara is in maternity. I called JJ to let her know you and Alex were on your way in."

"Thank you, Derek." Emily sighed in relief. She should've known there was no way Morgan would leave JJ agonizing in the dark.  
"She said she'll be down as soon as Kara finishes delivering. Shouldn't be long now, I guess." The warmth of his eyes was sparkling in amusement. He enjoyed knowing more than his former partner.

Searching his face Emily looked for clues of how the conversation went. Had JJ been angry? Scared? Had she simply been grateful for the information or had she let her emotions break through her voice? Morgan's expression yielded precious little other than the glint of happy excitement in his smile. In that much Emily could rest assured; everything was going to be fine.

* * *

JJ watched as Kara Rochester learned how to hold a newborn in either arm. The woman's joy was as radiant as her anguish had been devastating. The first twin had been born after the ringing sound of death. The second after the news that Alex Rochester had survived. Two unforgettable moments now memorialized for all time. JJ had watched the signing of the birth certificates for the twin girls. Alexis and Andrea. She truly hoped that the names were a promise that Kara would love her daughters as much as she did their namesake. Could a heart already so consumed with another person truly make room for others?

Seeing Kara's happiness as she cuddled the babies left JJ longing for the smell of Henry's hair when she kissed the top of his head. A heart had to be big enough for more than one. Perhaps that was where Alex and Kara had gone wrong all this time. Wrapped up so completely in each other they lost touch with the world around them until nothing else mattered. Love was not an excuse to be impulsive or justification for being selfish. If it were then such a love would destroy the world faster than any hate.

Jennifer could recall Emily's words the previous evening. (Was it really still only last night?) To avoid regrets they had to do things right. Right meant not being impatient or greedy. It meant thinking everything through. For love to be everything JJ knew it could, it had to think of more than itself. JJ knew what she wanted. Now she had to do the right thing for Emily and for Henry; for the people she loved most.

* * *

"No, baby girl. I still don't know. No, you cannot hack the hospital cameras to watch them talk. They aren't even in the same –," Morgan cut off the stern warning as JJ approached up the hallway. She looked rumpled and haggard but strong and tranquil as ever. Reid and Kate sat up straighter in their chairs against the wall. Hotch and Rossi had opted to stay behind and clean up the scene so that the others could go ahead and get off their feet.

"She's ok?" was all the blonde asked as she got close, her eyes darting to the closed room. Someone must have chased all the FBI agents out here to the hallway, there was no other reason they would have left Emily's bedside.

"Princess? You know it. I think she just got bored with wood and wanted a challenge." Derek grinned.

"Right now she's arguing with a nurse and I've got $50 bet that the woman is going to come out crying." Reid supplied further information. His Vegas upbringing tended to come out at odd times. JJ knew that Morgan and Garcia loved creating bets just for the fun of trying to outwit the statistical genius.

"Only $50? Spence, she's made doctors cry." JJ laughed, the sound covering shattered nerves that made her breath shake. Nothing would be right until she saw Emily with her own eyes.

"She's right, genius, but I think it's gonna be null," Morgan looked sympathetically at the woman adamantly maintaining her casual façade, "No reason you can't go in, JJ."

JJ didn't need any further permission. She walked into the hospital suite and found Emily on the edge of her bed interrogating the nurse the same way she would a pedophilic serial killer but with medical terms rather than corpse mutilations. The RN was indeed gulping and blinking rapidly in the manner of someone about to burst into tears. The gist of her broken argument was that a head wound of this level presenting with concussive symptoms needed a night of observation and possibly a CAT scan. Prentiss was vehemently not in agreement. She looked ready to start cursing the woman in every language she knew.

JJ stepping into the room silenced the argument because Emily saw her and went still. With a few words of reassuring persuasion to the nurse, Jareau was able to convince the stressed staff member that Emily wasn't in danger. The BAU had dealt with more than their share of injuries and concussions. Maybe no one quite as frequently as Emily but they knew what to watch for and the symptoms of a problem. Besides, there was no way in hell JJ was letting the brunette out of her sight.

Once the pacified nurse had been ushered from the room JJ shut the door and turned back to Emily. The silence that unfurled between them was heavy with words until she brought herself to approach. Lifting one hand, JJ delicately traced the bandage that covered Emily's entire right cheekbone. The bruising was already visible outside the edges of the white medical tape. It was a miracle the bone hadn't shattered.

"Em." JJ muttered, for a split second allowing herself to contemplate how much worse it could have been. When she'd answered that phone call and heard Morgan's voice a piece of her had shattered, absolutely certain the worst had happened. Then she'd heard the nearly miraculous words. Emily was alive. She was safe. That had been the breaking point when JJ allowed herself to cry and she knew Emily could still see the residue of the tears in her eyes.

"I'm ok, Jen. I've had worse." Prentiss did her best to lighten the air but even she felt the gravity of emotion liberated from fear that clung to their every word and movement. The subtle way her face turned into JJ's hesitant touch spoke volumes of her equal need for this contact.

"I heard the shots. I thought – Em, I've never been so afraid. Even with Henry I knew there was something I could do, something I did. When I heard the weapons firing and not your voice; I was completely helpless. You could've been wheeled in here on a gurney instead of walking in on your own and there wouldn't have been anything I could do."

"I did walk in though; and fall over quite dramatically from what I understand. I'm here, Jennifer. I'm going to be just fine." Emily promised, her own hand rising to cover the fingers caressing her cheek.

"I know. God, I'm so glad," JJ brushed the hair from Emily's cheek, cradling her face with both hands and kissing her forehead before finding the strength to resume, "Those gunshots . . . they woke me up, Em. Terror crystallizes everything and I saw so clearly exactly what I want. What I need to do."

"JJ, you don't –," Emily started to protest, clearly uncomfortable with rushing this conversation. Relationships born out of crises never worked. PTSD clouded judgment, adrenaline amplified feelings; decisions were made in the heat of the moment only to be regretted later. Maybe that was what had spurred the impulsive marriage after the bank heist? JJ pressed a finger to Emily's lips, silencing her objection. She knew that the stresses of the day hadn't changed anything. Not even the revelations and confessions of the last 24 hours had altered her view. Nothing was different; it had all simply become clear.

"Lucky, Emily, please just listen," JJ begged, "I know what's coming is going to be hard. There is no magic wand that lets us cross from here to happily ever after. But I'm going to make it happen. I will do the work and take the pains because I can't lose you again. I thought I had tonight and my entire world fell apart. All I could think was that you might die without my ever having told you – saying the actual words. I love you, Emily. I need you to know that. For the days ahead and however impossible it seems: I want you with me; I need you, now and forever, I am in love with you."

Emily stared at her. The words piled up inside her head, each one a priceless treasure she had to turn every which way to examine and adore. JJ wanted her. JJ was in love with her. It was almost too massive a truth to comprehend all at once and Emily felt like she was pressed to the wall of a skyscraper trying to see to the top. JJ would find a way for them to be together. JJ was choosing her. JJ. Loved. Her.

"And if you don't say something in the next 30 seconds I'm going to get worried." JJ added, eyes searching for a clue to the brunette's reaction. Emily hadn't even realized that the shock had numbed her expression. She wrapped an arm around JJ's waist, pulling her closer and gazing up at her paragon of romance, wondering if it was even possible to have so much emotion inside a single body without exploding. Could so much feeling ever be captured?

"Blackbird," Knowing these emotions were larger than the words of any single tongue, Emily found her first ones in French,  
_"I will never make you worry. Why would you? I've told you. I've been telling you for years,"_

The poetry of French gave way to the romance of Italian.

_"In thousands of words and ways. In every touch and glance and smile that you had to know was yours alone."_

Italian segued so easily to Spanish.

_"I have loved you for years. I am more in love with you every day but to an eternity of tomorrows it will never be enough."_

The building intensity betraying passion pushed her to Arabic.

_"You fill every fiber of my being and you will be the last breath in my body."_

Arriving at her conclusion left only simple fact; honesty served best in her broken Russian.

_"I can say the words in any language you like."_

"In any language it's always the same, Jennifer: I love you."

After that neither of them had any words left to say. Emily tilted her face up and sealed the entire vow with her kiss. The embrace was full of promise and determination. The strength of will twining with affectionate surrender. Now they knew more than simply where they stood. Now they knew where they were going. They were going together.


	25. Returning

** Chapter 25**

** Returning**

"If you love somebody, let them go, for if they return, they were always yours.  
And if they don't, they never were."  
-Khalil Gibran

The end of a case, however dangerous, bloody or full of despair, always left the BAU team in a state of giddy relief. The crushing urgency suddenly lifted and, like laughter after a scare, they all found themselves jovial in their exhaustion.

"Seriously, I got the hospital footage," Garcia held the entire table's amused attention, "It was like something in one of Gideon's old Chaplin films. She straightens up, tells the nurse she's fine and just keels over backward."

"So now you've got injuries on the front and back of your head." Morgan teased the long-suffering Prentiss.

"You know how I like to be balanced." Emily shrugged back, her smirk the only comfortable expression since anything bigger made her cheek throb.

"Backward is really the only option for falling when losing consciousness. The brain loses control of the muscles. Knees are usually the first joint to bend under the unsupported body weight and since they only move in one direction it's inevitable that a person falls back. The spine would also curve, however, so it's far more likely that she didn't actually 'keel' so much as collapse." Reid postulated. His next diatribe would surely be on the use of a word like 'keel' and how it could relate to human movement.

"I'm sure you did it with all your usual grace." Rossi interjected before Spencer could keep talking.

"Right, a graceful collapse," Emily rolled her eyes, "I can't believe I forgot to dramatically throw my arm across my forehead and whimper as I fainted."

The teasing jibes were a long standing ritual. Humor was the whole team's way of accepting negative events; it allowed them to absorb what had happened and put it in perspective. Some things were too big for jokes and that reality was what made it so comforting to laugh about the smaller stuff.

When Hotch and Rossi had finally finished wrapping up Alex Rochester's final crime scene, they'd summoned everyone back to the conference room. A lot of paperwork was involved in closing out a case. Hotchner had offered to exempt Emily, allowing her the option of staying at the hospital or even returning to her room to rest but the brunette had been adamant. She'd started this whole damn business and she was going to see it through to the end. Besides, JJ had made it very clear she wasn't letting Emily out of her sight (because of the danger of the concussion of course, not at all because she couldn't bear the thought of being separated right now) and Prentiss wasn't going to cost the team two agents.

Finishing their dealings with the locals, dismantling the control center and returning it to simply a conference room, convincing Garcia to restore the hotel's former ("illegitimate offspring of a troglodyte and Ned Ludd") network structure; all of it took time. Hotch had already foreseen the delays as well as his team's weariness and decided they would fly back in the morning. They needed a night to rest and process. They also needed a moment of reward. That was why, when Garcia announced that she absolutely wasn't using her free night in New York City to go to bed early, it was easily agreed that everyone wanted to do something more.

No one had the energy or patience for a club. They were too dead on their feet to mill around a hot spot or bar. It didn't feel like any of them could handle the noise or bustle or demands of most of New York night life in their current state. Since all of them were so used to understanding each other, to thinking and feeling as a group; it was nearly in synchrony that they turned to Rossi, knowing he could direct them to good food in a friendly but secluded atmosphere. That was how they ended up relaxing around the table in this tiny Italian eatery, fussed over by a woman who clearly had been in charge of the restaurant for longer than they had been alive. She'd hugged Rossi when he walked in and scolded him at length in Italian, each word leaving the agent helpless to object while Emily could barely stifle her laughter. Italians always had a story, a criticism and a heart full of passion to offer food and love; usually all at once.

Having been fed (and then fed some more) the team enjoyed the remnants of a few bottles of excellent Chianti. Emily wasn't drinking because of the concussion but she had the same warm, relaxed demeanor as everyone else. It might have been related to the casual comfort of JJ sitting next to her, reclining against her shoulder with familiar ease. Garcia saw the happy contentment in Emily's eyes and had no doubt about the source.

"I can't believe you're flying back to London in the morning." Penelope mourned. She saw all too clearly that her sorrow was mirrored by the entire team but none so much as JJ.

"Djinn might be wrapped up here in the US but I'm going to be spending the next month getting through all the loose ends she left behind," Emily shook her head, "My team has been cross referencing missing persons, scouring the Fortress personnel reports and desperately tracking down DNA samples from 18 other countries. We've got a lot of work to do before this case is truly put to rest. Too many people still need the answers we found."

"Victims in 21 countries. I'm glad I'm not a prosecutor anymore. Jurisdiction on this is going to be a nightmare." The quirk of Hotchner's eyebrow slightly upward was one of his few outward tells of inner thought.

"Alex killed across state lines; first degree murder as well as use of explosives and encouraging hate crime. Any of those would make her subject to the federal death penalty." Kate pondered the gloomy fate awaiting the disturbed woman.

"The US government has only executed three people since 1963. Thirty-seven total in almost 9 decades. It's far more likely that she'll be sentenced for life." Spencer doubted. Sixty-two people were currently on the federal death row. Compared to the 3,000 plus sentenced by 32 states. All in all, the government tended to be fairly prudent about its death sentence. The assurance was a small source of comfort to the BAU. They'd seen more than their share of UnSubs commit suicide by cop or kill themselves rather than be taken into custody. The profilers' job already involved so much death; it never felt right that it end with even more. Justice could be served without having to even an illusory score.

"And now that Arthur is dead, she'll probably be perfectly happy living out her days behind bars." Rossi concluded.

"Until someone comes along that hurts Kara." Morgan corrected. They all hoped it wasn't true. The dynamic of the hate between Alex and her twin had been unique and terrifyingly overwhelming. Perhaps, as Rossi said, with Arthur out of the picture Alex would never again feel so threatened, damaged and enraged that she had to kill. Or maybe, because her love for Kara was its own pathology that justified any crime, she would've continued her protective crusade for the rest of their lives together.

"Sixty-six people. All because she couldn't channel her rage at the source." Emily contemplated.

"The solution of a broken mind." Hotchner observed.

No one deserved to be murdered. Perhaps, at the distant stretches of justice, they could admit that Arthur Rochester had brought his fate on himself. No such punishment was warranted for the dozens of innocents that had been slaughtered in Alex's quest for total protection and vengeance. She had chosen her fate the moment she became Djinn, destined to be trapped and enslaved by her own emotion. She would now become like her namesakes of lore: imprisoned in order to protect the world from her own tremendous power to destroy.

"Enough with the serious talk. You're making me unhappy and you promised I could enjoy myself." Garcia swatted Derek, hating the tiny lines of worry furrowing the brows all around her.

"Whatever you want, Baby girl. Tell you what, think Rossi could get them to turn up the music in here? I'll twirl you around the tables to a bit of Dino." Morgan rose and extended a hand to Penelope, who faked a coy demurral even as she accepted the offer.

Rossi grinned, calling to the waiter in Italian. The strains of Dean Martin that had been crooning so gently in the background came up louder and the team watched Garcia and Morgan dance through the tiny aisles of the restaurant. Happy camaraderie filled every inch of the room as some of them called out corrections on dance moves (JJ and Reid), hummed along to the music (Rossi and Kate) or simply marveled that in a world like theirs and job like this one such friendships were even possible (Emily and Hotchner).

The team felt like home and family and everything Emily had spent half her life chasing and another half telling herself she didn't want. Now, with JJ's fingers interlaced with her own, she knew she had never stopped wanting. She had given up chasing and ran away instead. Either way, she'd somehow managed to arrive at exactly the place she needed to be. She had to leave it though. The fact hurt like the deepest edge of a wound. Every end was a beginning which meant that to begin something else had to end. For her and JJ to begin their lives together a lot had to end first.

* * *

"Are you scared?" Emily's whisper in JJ's ear was just as awake and alert as she herself was feeling. Despite the long day, the late hour, the exhaustion and relief of closing the case, she still imagined she could feel the spin and hum of every molecule in her body. That awareness might have been exacerbated by the fact that she could feel every inch of the warmth cradling her, each swell and sigh of Emily's breathing.

"No. Nervous. Anxious. Impatient," JJ explored the tensions in her nerves, "I'd be excited if I weren't so worried but I'm not scared. I'm ready."

"Impatient, hmm? You could've caught a commercial flight instead of waiting for the team." Emily teased. JJ rolled over to see the smirk that accompanied the words. The room was dark but dim light from the edges of the drawn curtain showed her the shadows of the face sharing her pillow.

"And give up even a second of this?" she smiled, tracing a finger over the outline of Emily's cheek, carefully avoiding the bandage.

"Maybe that's why neither of us are sleeping." Emily observed, her own hand enjoying the feel of threading through JJ's hair. The panic of the day, the outpouring of emotion, the pressure of imminent separation; it all amounted to an irresistible need to stay close. Every touch, breath, sound and scent had to be carved into memory because it was all they would have for the days ahead. JJ watched Emily's face as she brushed a light kiss over her lips, capturing the glint of affectionate wonder in her eyes.

"I don't want tomorrow to ever come but I want it to already be past. I wish you didn't have to go." She confessed, allowing her inner child to resent her grown up reality.

"I think we learned enough about wishes on this case to know that isn't a good idea." Emily smiled, kissing the pout off JJ's lips. The blonde resisted as best she could but eventually even she had to give in and return the gesture.

"Wishes have a price," JJ knew that none of them would ever forget Djinn's lesson, "Would it really be so bad? What would happen if I wished for you to stay?"

"I would stay." Emily stated simply. It wouldn't be easy and she'd catch nothing but grief from Interpol and her team but Emily knew she would do it for JJ. She'd spent so many years making decisions that ended up hurting the blonde, denying her the right to know the truth and have a say in their future; Emily was determined to make that up to her. If JJ told her to stay, she would.

"And what would that end up costing?" JJ drew the thought out further, contemplating a tomorrow (today, technically) that didn't take Emily away from her. The affectionate humor that had been playing in the brunette's eyes turned somber; a flicker of sorrow at the thought to come.

"Probably everything else." The truth was sad but resolute. There was more to the makeup of their world than this private moment so removed from reality. They both carried responsibilities, obligations; commitments that had to be honored before they could be released. The coming days couldn't be escaped. They could, however, be endured.

"Then I guess I have to let you go." JJ sighed, surrendering the selfish impulses. The future she wanted for them both couldn't be built on regrets. Tucking her head against Emily's collar she curled closer to the warmth and smell she desperately wanted to absorb into herself. Prentiss could sense the sadness beginning to taint their comfort. She ran her hand along JJ's back, each stroke soothing the inner turmoil.

"I might have to leave but you know I won't be gone, Jennifer. I'm not running away," Emily reminded her, kissing the top of her head, "I'll be with you every day. Every step."

"I know. No escape for you and no short cuts for me." JJ tilted her head back up to meet Emily's eyes with her own determined gaze, "I won't just wish for it, Em. I'll do the work. I'll earn the chance for us to be together and I promise: when I tell you it's time to come back it will be forever."

The sound of the words coupled with the intensity in JJ's cerulean eyes; the sheer wonder of it all left Emily breathless. There were times when even a polyglot didn't know what to say. She used her mouth anyway. Each touch of her lips to JJ's described the miracle of the moment. Every breath exchanged between them a life's confession and prayer. They lingered timelessly, trading unspoken promises that would carry them over the coming days.

_"The sound of a kiss is not so loud as that of a cannon, but its echo lasts a great deal longer."_ Emily and JJ made certain theirs would be heard across an ocean.

* * *

JJ replayed every word and touch of the previous night as she stared out the window of the jet. She worked her way forward in the memories, gradually allowing herself to ponder the morning of waking up peacefully in Emily's arms, more content and secure than she'd felt in years. She'd driven to the airport early for Emily's international flight, knowing the extra minutes of their time together was worth the hours of boredom before her own departure.

They'd walked together along the concourses of JFK, wandering in and out of shops hand in hand as they discussed good flight reading material and the irrationally high price of airport tuna sandwiches. Emily had been almost shy as she pointed out plush toys and souvenirs she might like to send home to Henry. She'd been an adopted aunt for years and there was no one she loved spoiling more than the tiny blonde boy that inherited so much of his mother's nature. There was a reticence about that affection now. The same as her hesitance to show the completely consuming emotion she felt for JJ. It was as if she didn't think she had the right to feel so much.

JJ had squeezed Emily's hand and promised that she didn't have to buy Henry's love, the boy was already devoted to her. Bolstered by that assurance Emily had grinned and then decided to buy a ridiculously expensive radio controlled car at the Discovery Channel store and a box of chocolates, commanding both be handed to her favorite miniature blonde the minute JJ arrived home.

Jennifer couldn't let herself think about their goodbyes outside Emily's gate. Not yet. The departure had been too full of heartbreaking emotion. For now she stayed on the feeling of their morning kiss, the sensation of Emily's fingers lightly gripping her waist as they studied racks of merchandise, the brightness in her eyes every time they looked at each other as though all the words in the world still weren't enough to convey her happiness. She had the rest of the flight for thinking about what was to come. To contemplate Will and the words she would use. To figure out how to keep Henry safe no matter what happened in the coming days. To rehearse speeches, practice arguments, prepare consolations. Right now she wanted just a few more precious minutes to savor the sweetness of their time before moving on to the bitter.

"Mind if I join you?" Penelope's voice broke through JJ's cloud of recollections.

"Of course not." Jareau fell back on her customary warm smile, hoping her eyes didn't betray her. Garcia sat down, pained sympathy flashing across her face and declaring JJ's façade was useless. Jennifer truly couldn't bear that right now. The empathy and understanding, the desire to share; she couldn't handle any of it because right now she needed to be strong for what was to come. Penelope must've sensed the tenuous but resolute determination. She couldn't hide her sympathy but she could smile and let them both pretend.

"So, you never told me what happened the other night." Garcia raised a suggestive eyebrow.

"Which night?" JJ innocently demurred. Her gratitude nearly broke a rib as it swelled within.

"When you took off like a woman on a mission, full of badly repressed desires and barely planned impulses." Penelope casually elaborated.

"Oh, that night," JJ gave an exaggerated nod of recollection, "I went to talk to Emily."

"Talk," Garcia repeated, beyond incredulous, "You two talked?"

"For quite some time." JJ nodded, radiating sincerity. It helped so much that it was true.

"Sugar, I saw you. You were practically on the verge of spontaneous combustion in an unforgettably sexy way. I'm straighter than the horizon and devoted to the men in my life but if you showed up in my hotel room looking the way you did? I would've had to seriously reconsider my options." Penelope shook her head, refusing to accept the bowdlerized version of events. JJ laughed, trying to imagine bursting in on her friend in the middle of the night. She'd probably be wearing something very comfortable and pink.

"Ok," JJ surrendered, knowing Garcia wouldn't settle for sanitized half-truths, "I kissed her."

"You -?!" Garcia gaped at the whispered admission, "You kissed her? I mean: _you_ kissed _her_?! Holy spaghetti gods and monsters!"

"Easy, Pen," JJ scanned the cabin, double checking that no one was listening in, "You didn't leave me much of a choice that night. I had to find out if you were right. You were; why are you surprised now?"

"Because I just won $200 off Morgan!" Garcia squealed happily, doing a tiny victory dance in her seat, "I knew you'd make the first move! He was so sure it would be Emily and it wasn't!"

"You guys were running bets on us?" JJ gaped, not sure whether she should be amazed, amused or offended.

"Are you kidding? There's nearly a thousand bucks bet one way or another on you two. What can I say? Your chemistry is very moving." Garcia was still clapping her hands happily, no doubt thinking of her winnings and the massive amounts of coffee she'd be spending it on.

"Everyone else bet that Emily would make the first move?" JJ wondered, confused at how anyone could think such a thing. Did they have no clue about the standard of honor she held herself to? Did they not know the martyred suffering she endured?

"No, just Morgan. He thought since she came back she'd finally suck it up and confess," Penelope clarified, "Reid felt it was more likely that the situation would be overwhelming for her and she'd give into her emotions. Either way, they both were obviously underestimating our Princess. And you."

"Who else made bets?" JJ found her curiosity about the bizarre invasion of privacy was stronger than any other reaction. What had an entire team of profilers seen fit to gamble on?

"Rossi bet that Emily wouldn't go back to London without telling you how she felt. I guess I'll have to settle with him for that one. She did tell you, right?" a suddenly scrutinizing gaze swept over Jareau, searching for hints.

"Yes, Pen, she did. We talked. We know where we are." Jennifer felt like a child being asked if she'd remembered to do her homework.

"Good. We all knew something had to change with you two. It was getting ridiculous." Garcia rolled her eyes but refrained from any further criticism. JJ felt a sting of irritation that her entire team had been watching them so closely. She was even a bit betrayed that they would so easily profile Emily and JJ's relationship but never give either of them the dignity of a hint. Most of all, she was offended that everyone seemed to think Emily had to be the aggressive one.

"For the record," JJ leaned over, challenge lacing her expression, "I was the one that confronted her. I kissed her. I told her I'm in love with her first."

Correcting everyone's faulty assumptions felt like a victory. Until Garcia's look of amazement turned to sadness.

"You told her. She still left?" the tech couldn't wrap her mind around the conflicting ideas. If they knew they were in love, how could they be apart? JJ sighed, realizing she'd left herself wide open. She sat back, looking down at her folded hands before finding words that wouldn't crack her emotional resolve.

"She had to, Pen. We both have work to do."

"But, JJ, you and Emily – what could be so important that – I don't understand why -," Garcia had a way of verbalizing brain glitches. JJ felt a wash of sympathy for her bewildered friend.

"Just for now, Penelope. We have to get everything sorted out and do things right. She'll be back. I'm going to bring her home." She squeezed Garcia's hand, the strength of the grip nothing compared to the determination in her heart. The emotion must have transmitted through her touch because the sadness fled Penelope's eyes and all too soon she was bouncing in her seat again.

"Oh oh oh! I can't wait! I get to help her unpack and decorate the new place and move you in and we're going to have a girl's night as soon as she's home! A girl's night every month! No, a whole girl's weekend and we'll watch trashy romance movies for me and scary stuff for you and overly cerebral boring foreign stuff like Emily loves and –,"

JJ smiled, settling into the ease of excited happiness that radiated off her friend and enveloped them both. As Garcia's hopes, plans and ambitions for their future lives unfurled around her, JJ not only reflected on how perfect it all sounded but – for the first time – how easy as well.

* * *

_This long journey nears its end for all involved. Please don't tire out on me now._ _Reviews, reactions and reviling are all welcomed equally. _


	26. Ends

**Chapter 26**

**Ends**

"We may our ends by our beginnings know.

-John Denham

JJ arrived at her front door in the late morning. The timing was ideal since it gave her a few hours before having to fetch Henry and she knew she would need the time to go through her usual homecoming rituals. There was an inevitable consequence to going out of town and that was in returning to find the haphazard, unintentional mess that took over her house in the absence of motherly influence. She'd dealt with it so many times her body could move through the routine on autopilot.

Step _over_ the pile of shoes strewn like landmines all around the front entry. Gather up the plates and glasses that had so mysteriously wandered from the kitchen and congregate them back in the sink. Check the pile of mail that had her name and verify it was all junk mail; discard. Pack up the half dozen art and craft projects that had aggressively occupied the kitchen table (no wonder the plates and glasses had to go somewhere else). Spend 15-20 minutes trying to find the last crayons missing from Henry's assorted boxes and finally give up; assume the green one has been relegated to the graveyard beneath the couch. Kick toys (particularly Legos) out of the main traffic paths. Close all the cupboards, closets and drawers hastily jammed or left askew.

All these tasks completed, she automatically moved to the final habitual stage: laundry. Henry and Will never had as many dirty clothes when she was gone. In her absence they tended to wear sullied clothing until the stains became a permanent part of the fabric's existence. Still, they'd obviously changed their underwear every day and that was better than she remembered of her brothers.

Stepping into the laundry room JJ dumped her load into the washing machine before turning to her go bag. Her behavior, to this point, had been blissfully mindless; the robotic actions of a brain gone numb with exhaustion and conflict. That serene detachment was shattered as the zipper slid open and an evocative scent filled the entire room. _Emily._ JJ inhaled sharply, the dichotomy of the moment scattering her senses. Here she stood in the laundry room going through the motions of a boring task she'd done literally hundreds of times, paralyzed by the sudden rush of tension that struck her body like lightning.

She felt the twirling dance of butterflies in her stomach and warmth flushed her skin as though still heated by another. In the top of her go bag were her pajamas. She delicately lifted out the grey tank. The smell grew stronger. The thin fabric had absorbed two nights' worth of the trace perfume that lingered on Emily's skin. JJ's fingers clenched in the material of the shirt. She could feel phantom touches outlining her every contour as the words of their conversation whispered in her ears, sending shivers down her spine with each recollected breath.

Her body reliving those nights didn't change that JJ was all too aware of where she was. She was in her home, not a hotel room with Emily. This was the house she'd brought Henry home to; the place they'd chronicled every milestone of his short five years so far. These walls were imprinted with 6 years of stories and experiences and sensations to be treasured. Nostalgia for those distant memories joined forces with the familiar safety of her habituated domestic life; waging war for control of her emotions. JJ raised the shirt to her face, taking a deep breath. Try as they might, her thoughts could summon no guilt or pain. All she found was the deep vibration of longing; the excited but agonized anticipation of a prisoner within reach of freedom.

It was only an hour later that JJ stood at the perimeter of Henry's school. She eagerly watched every child leaving the building, anxious to sight Henry before he could begin looking for the sitter. In the loud, rambunctious stampede of children she spotted a familiar head of feathery blonde hair.

"Henry!" JJ waved, attracting her son's attention. He searched the fence line for the familiar but out of context voice calling his name. Seeing his mother, the boy's face lit up like a searchlight.

"Mama! You're home, mama!" he raced to her and wrapped himself around her legs, pointing out the obvious with an enthusiasm only children could muster.

"I am, sweetheart. I missed you so much." JJ knelt down and hugged him close. She never let herself think about how much she longed for Henry when she was traveling. If she dared to even contemplate the hole in her heart that was being absent from his life, it might turn into a vacuum and suck her inside out. Everyone had certain things they were better at compartmentalizing. JJ could separate her feelings as a mother so long as she always came back to moments like this.

"Is Aunt Emmy home too?" Henry eagerly asked, looking around as though he expected his mother's friend to be present even here. JJ felt a pang of sympathy, wishing she could spare him this disappointment.

"No, honey. Emily had to go back to London to work. She sent you some presents though and a big hug." She pressed him close again, wondering if she could squeeze the sadness from his eyes. Leaning back, she knew she couldn't.

"But I did a drawing for her." Henry's bottom lip quivered dangerously. Any one that accused JJ of having a lethal pout had never seen how her progeny took it to the next level.

"You did? Can I see it?" JJ forced her smile to stay wide, her voice bright. Inside, she writhed over the heartbreak in his voice.

"We drew today and Miss Mary said mine was very special." The boy set down his backpack and pulled out a roll of paper.

Unfurling it, JJ could distinguish the individual symbols that were universal in all her son's drawings. The familiar boxes within a box that were his drawing of their home. A red rectangle that was Lightning McQueen. A black and white shape that symbolized the puppy he'd never stopped wanting. In front of all of it was a small stick figure with wild blonde hair in a soccer jersey. He'd been lucky number 6 for the entire time he was 5. Pretty soon he'd need a new shirt with 7 to aim for. Beside Henry's figure was a taller one. A woman with dark hair.

JJ bit her lip. She'd profiled children's drawings plenty of times with the BAU. There was an undeniably large smile drawn onto the stick figure Henry's face. The depiction of Emily was more than four times larger than the boy, a powerful authority figure. Yet she was smiling too. And Henry had drawn them holding hands.

"It's beautiful, Henry. She'll love it," JJ paused, making sure she could keep her cheerful tone, "You really liked having her here, didn't you?"

"Yeah! Aunt Emmy is the best!" Henry declared. The excitement he radiated brought JJ back to a state of delight. No one could be sad in the presence of such enthusiasm.

"Oh really? And just why is she so great?" she asked playfully, taking her son's hand to lead him back to the car. Henry managed a derisive scoff, something he had to have picked up from cartoons, and then proceeded to launch into a lecture on why Emily was amazing in a 5-year-old's eyes.

"She saves people like you and daddy but she does it all over the world! She sends me toys like Aunt Penny. She makes you smile like Uncle Spencer but there's extra happy when Emmy is home. It's like a super power." Henry listed the virtues as he was buckled into his car seat.

Extra happy. That seemed a good way of describing Emily's effect. JJ started the car, wondering what it meant that her son described Emily's visits as being 'home.' Could a child truly be that perceptive? She longed to tell him that his favorite person wouldn't be gone long. That if she had it her way, Emily and Henry would have all the time together they could want. Her tongue twitched and coiled on words locked behind her set teeth. She wanted so desperately to ask her son what he would think of them living with Emily some of the time instead of with daddy. She clamped her lips. She didn't dare tease or frighten him. JJ knew she couldn't discuss their future with Henry until she had sorted it out with Will. He deserved to be the first to know. He had a right to say what would happen with Henry. Which meant that for now, JJ had to say nothing.

Almost nothing.

"Tell you what, kiddo; How about if I call Emily tomorrow and we have a video chat so you can see her?" JJ suggested. The idea made Henry bounce in his seat.

"Yes! I can sing her my new song and show her the game we played today," his eagerness knew no bounds until a worry crossed his mind, "But you talk to Emmy awfully late, mama. What if I'm asleep?"

JJ paused. Part of her brain was wondering how her son had worked out the pattern of her communications with Emily. Another part was trying to decide if she could justify waking him up at 11 or 12pm just to say hello. As she wrestled with the thoughts, Henry came up with his own solution.

"If I'm asleep you have to promise to show her my drawing." He commanded sternly. JJ caught his reflection in her rear view mirror, his mouth set in a firm line.

"Absolutely, Sweetheart. I promise." She smiled. She had a feeling her next conversation with Emily was bound to be a lengthy one.

* * *

The average flight from DC to London was seven hours and 40 minutes. Using a requisitioned jet for private flight (out of the Interpol budget) shaved nearly 90 minutes off that time. The real efficiency, however, was in skipping the time consuming hassles of commercial airport bureaucracy. Even with all that and a 7 am flight (which JJ had very vocally protested when the alarm went off at 6) Emily still didn't walk into her office until close to 7 pm London time. Why was she not surprised to see the majority of her team working after hours?

"Welcome back, boss! Amazing work your lot did. We've got reports from 16 of the countries and are closing in on nearly half the total victims identified. Locals are pretty happy all over." Salinger greeted, rising from his desk despite Emily's gesture that he needn't bother. Mike and Sean also immediately joined in the welcome brigade.

"Word is that the directors are so chuffed we'll have the budget review passed in record time." Cassidy grinned, sharing a congratulatory handshake with the team leader.

"Good. This case never would've been detected or blown open if JTF hadn't caught the lead. You all did fantastic work." Emily praised them, determined that they would know the intrinsic part they had played in the investigation. Being involved long distance sometimes didn't feel as satisfying but she needed them to understand the importance of their role.

"We should make it standard practice: working across time zones like this. If we get one more country involved we could have a 24/7 profiling department." Becca approached from the break area.

"Maybe, but it would have to be Australia and we all know what they're like to work with." Salinger teased.

It was probably only because of the recent aura of friendship with her own team that Emily couldn't help noticing how JTF were a close-knit group as well. They paralleled in many ways: the interchange of thought, the teasing humor, the constant challenge and pride in their work. It wouldn't be such a bad thing if the two teams found themselves collaborating in the future. Never mind if that future included her or not.

"So, I was gone almost a week. What's been happening?" Emily shied away from the serious turn of thought before it could breach her expression.

"You mean besides tracking the crime spree of a global serial killer? Not much," Mike shrugged, "Ellie had a boyfriend for two seconds."

"Ellie – what?" Prentiss repeated in disbelief. It was sad that her struggle was in accepting that Ellie had found a romantic interest at all. That it only lasted two seconds? That seemed inevitable.

"Met him in some chat room. Bloke made the mistake of showing her his code." Lorna joined them now as well, dropping reports on her desk and nodding a salute to the returned leader.

"Please tell me that is literal and not hacker slang for something worse." Emily groaned, already hearing the purr Garcia might put into such an innuendo.

"Oh it's literal alright. But apparently there isn't much worse in the hacker world." Sean laughed.

"Not up to our girl's standards," Salinger clarified, "She takes a pretty critical view of these things you know. And she isn't the most tactful about her disapproval."

"She shredded his firewall and sent the complete browser history to everyone in his contacts." Becca snorted.

"Oh lord. Has he been arrested or just fled the country?" Prentiss knew, after years of dealing with Garcia and the recent refresher course, vindictive hackers seldom wrought small revenges. Total destruction of life was their automatic retaliation.

"Gone to hiding for now. Maybe once the hunt cools off he'll make a run. Funny though, she's been happy as a clam for days since." Lorna cast an affectionate glance toward the hallway that led to their unpredictable tech savant.

"Good. She concentrates better when she's happy," Emily smiled in relief, "I just came in to fetch some of my papers to work on at home over the weekend. I don't expect any of you to stay after I leave."

The gentle suggestion was as close as Emily came to giving her team orders for their personal life. She had always appreciated Hotchner's even hand when it came to his team's mental and emotional well-being. She hoped she'd done remotely as well with her agents.

Stepping into her office and gathering papers, Prentiss was distracted for a few minutes before realizing someone had followed her. Becca stood in her doorway until Emily's glance acknowledged her presence and silently invited her in.

"You know, boss, I'd say it's good to have you back but I'm not quite sure that's the case." Fisher offered casually.

"It's not good I'm back?" Emily's eyebrow arched sarcastically.

"I'm not sure it's you. I mean, yeah _someone_ came back from the states; but I'm not totally sold that it's the boss we had leave." Becca approached the desk, nonchalant demeanor contradicted by the analysis of her gaze sweeping Emily.

"If this is going to be one of Sally's body snatcher theories we'd better get the team in. They love these stories." Emily demurred easily, leaning against the edge of her desk and crossing her arms in anticipation of what was to come. The JTF had never actually agreed to the 'no profiling profilers' rule so scrutiny was part of daily life.

"You certainly aren't the Prentiss that left. Your shoulders aren't squared with that military precision that makes my back ache. I can actually meet your eyes without thinking I'm about to be given the optical version of an aggressive colonoscopy. Your speech cadences are more relaxed and informal and no, it isn't jet lag so don't try. You looked bloody involved for that half second when we said Ellie had a beau. I'm not saying you haven't cared all along 'cause I know it wouldn't be true. But you've never let it show before," Becca pressed her case with equal parts amusement and determination, "You're smiling. Really smiling. Not that fake poise façade we all have to put on for dealing with locals and families and shite. You smiled when you walked in the door and it was because you were happy to see us."

"I am happy to see you." Emily pointed out, wondering how any of this amounted to a cause for concern. Becca leaned against the desk alongside her, gazing into the vague distance before turning attention back to her team leader.

"That's just it. You let us see it. You're not one for letting anyone see much anything, boss. Whatever happened over there, something changed. I'm just saying you can't expect us not to notice." Fisher shrugged, concluding her report in much the same way she might a profile.

"Becca, if I expected anyone not to notice things, I wouldn't have them on this team." Prentiss pointed out. Was this how Hotch felt when he had to try to keep the team at a distance? He'd never succeeded. Not for long.

"True enough. I only wanted to say that whatever it is that's different? I could get used to this. Probably all of us could. I hope this boss sticks around." Fisher offered a small, reassuring smile; one of her few expressions of sincerity. Then she resumed her trademark smirk and sauntered from the room with a teasing reminder to not work the whole weekend since some of them would need something to do come Monday.

* * *

Henry's surprised delight to have an entire afternoon as the center of his mother's attention was nothing compared to Will's disbelief when he walked in the door and found the scene of happy domesticity. Henry was at the kitchen table playing with toy cars and shouting out the story of each gruesome (and inevitable) crash while JJ cooked supper. Will stepped into the kitchen with the incredulous expression of a man convinced he'd stepped into another world.

"Case over already?" he asked, eyes shifting around the room to look for a hint of other occupants. He even seemed to be straining at the ears. JJ knew he was searching for signs of Emily.

"You know how it is. Once we have hold of a solid lead these types unravel fast." JJ shrugged, refusing to let herself be annoyed by the suspicion on his face. There was no reason to burst the cozy bubble that was holding the kitchen in such a snug embrace.

"Well then," his smile eased into relief and he wrapped an arm around her waist, "Welcome home, chère."

JJ saw his intent and turned her face just as he leaned in, allowing the kiss to grace her cheek. Even that felt wrong somehow. Just because she was home and creating a tranquil atmosphere didn't mean everything was alright. Will had to know that. He was a detective, for god's sake. How could he have thought _anything_ was alright these past months?

His disappointed comprehension of her manner escaped only as a tired sigh. His fingers numbly releasing their grip on her side. JJ knew if she were to look up at him right now he wouldn't even meet her gaze; he only wanted to hide from what he might see.

"Hey there, petit; who've you got here?" Will sat down at the table with Henry. JJ's tensed shoulders relaxed as she heard Henry launch into his explanation of the names and abilities of his automotive menagerie. She and Will might not be okay but there was no reason for Henry's night to be anything other than happy.

Dinner was as tranquil as could be expected with a 5 ("almost 6, mama") year old child at the table. Afterward, Will cleaned up the dishes while JJ and her son selected a game to play. A few rounds of Mario kart and then it was time to begin the evening bedtime rituals. These Henry could make last anywhere from 10 minutes to 45 depending on how much he didn't want to go to bed. Tonight, having enjoyed his day so much, he came up with no less than 14 reasons to postpone sleep lest the happiness end. JJ finally managed to encourage him along with the veiled threat that one more delay would mean no evening story. That incentive had him in his bed less than two minutes later.

"Story, mama!" he settled back into his pillows and pulled the blankets to his chin. JJ smiled at him as she sat down on the edge of the bed. There were times she thought her love for the boy might hold him so close he would be crushed to death. Instead, she turned all that strength into the tenderness that stroked his face, creating a tactile catalog of his features.

"I have a special story for you tonight, honey. It's about a cursed genie . . .," she begun to weave the story for her spellbound son. What version might Emily have told? Or Reid for that matter?

Twenty minutes later, JJ kissed Henry good night and turned off the bedroom lights. The sleepy murmur of his 'love you, mama," still warming her to the depths of her bones as she left the room. Downstairs she found Will sitting at the kitchen table, reading some file; pretending to anyway. She knew he'd been listening to the sound of her footsteps as she approached. Sitting down across from him she noticed the preternatural stillness of the room. Night had cast silence over the outdoors and sleep had made the house tranquil. Now she had to disturb that peace.

"Will, we should talk." She finally summoned the words she'd been rehearsing unconsciously for days.

"About Emily." Will didn't even look up from the file.

"What?" JJ had run through this script mentally a thousand times with a hundred different permutations but none prepared her for that.

"Don't you mean we should talk about Emily?" Will closed the case file and looked directly at her.

"No," JJ objected, irritated that he was already leaping to conclusions, finding ways to escape the matter at hand, "About us. This doesn't involve Emily."

"JJ, I'm not blind. I know how you were before she came. I saw how you looked at her when she was here and I can see how you're looking now," Will's gaze declared that he'd seen more than JJ could ever know, "Did you sleep with her?"

"No!" JJ answered before the 'yes buts' could start making things complicated, "I didn't have sex with her, Will."

She knew that total disclosure would demand telling him that she _had_ slept with Emily in the other sense. She couldn't get into that right now. She couldn't allow either of them to be distracted by the intimacy of falling asleep in the other woman's arms and the sense of perfection that had enveloped her for those scant hours. They were already getting too far off track from the purpose of this conversation.

"Did you want to?" Will wouldn't let the matter drop. The gleam in his eye was masochistic. He was being tortured by his own imagination and no matter how horrible the reality he had to know. JJ shook her head. This was not what they needed. It wouldn't be good for him; for anyone.

"I have never wanted to cheat, Will." JJ stated firmly. Did she want Emily that night? Yes. So much that for a few seconds she thought she might dissolve in the heat consuming every inch of her body and kill her if she couldn't get a glimpse of the pleasure at their fingertips. Did she want Emily at the price of her own integrity? No. Did she want Emily to be ashamed of what happened? Never. She didn't want that for any of them.

Will must've seen the resolute truth in the set of her jaw. He leaned back, relaxing slightly as the worst of his fevered anxieties eased. He believed her. He clearly appreciated the sincere intensity of her honor.

"Did you kiss her?" he cocked an eyebrow and then observed her silent hesitation, "I see. Well, no one's perfect, eh, chère?"

"Will, this isn't about my relationship with Emily. This is about me and you."

"Sure but she's a part of that, isn't she? I mean, would we be having this conversation if she hadn't come back?" Will argued mildly. He had decided on a scape goat. Whatever was to come (and he obviously had a good feel for what was coming) he was determined to blame Emily. JJ clenched her teeth, swallowing the words swelled up by anger. Yes, they _would_ have because she had been unhappy. Would she have realized it without Emily? Eventually. Would she have known the shape and words for the gaping pain in her stomach that sometimes left her racked with lonely sobs and other times swallowed up all feeling, leaving her empty? Probably not. But that wouldn't have changed the reality. None of that was the _fucking_ point!

"I miscarried in Afghanistan." JJ abruptly stated, forcing Will to focus not on Emily or excuses or escapes. She needed him to be here and now, listening. With that confession she had his full attention.

"What?" he stared, mouth moving as he tried to find any other words.

"The bomb blast in 2011. I was still in the first trimester. I had _just_ found out," JJ felt the stab of sadness as she recalled the happy surprise followed by such intense grief, "I lost the baby, Will. And I never told you."

"JJ," her husband's mind was obviously reeling, "Why?"

"I knew you'd blame the job. You'd eventually blame me too, because the job is who I am and I won't give it up. I knew it would only create one more fight. I just added it to all the other secrets that I kept to myself, every other dark story and sad moment that I didn't share with you because I thought that was what I had to do to preserve our world. Storing up secrets and pains and bearing them in silence just felt like the only way to maintain the status quo and you know what? I don't want that anymore."

"JJ, I never wanted you to have to -," Will didn't know how to finish the sentence so he reached across the table, taking her hand. Even if he thought he wanted to express some noble sentiment like ' suffer alone,' or 'keep everything silent,' or 'protect our marriage that way;' JJ was certain that his true, unexpressed thought was that he'd never wanted JJ to be in that situation. That he never wanted her to be again. Deep down, he still wanted her to be someone else.

"It's time for things to change, Will. It's time you heard everything."

The hours of that night barely passed, a slow motion stretch of eternity as JJ recounted the events and examples that had scored her heart like brand marks. Their failures to take care of each other, the misunderstandings that blew up into fights, the silences that rang louder than screams, the gradual erosion of sympathy and with it trust. It was a twisted version of Scheherazade. Rather than using this night of stories to make someone fall in love, JJ was providing the proof that they weren't.

When dawn light crept in the windows JJ's throat was raw from use and emotion. Will was staring at her, speechless, as he had been for hours. He had whipped through every emotion possible: anger, justification, despair, accusation; none of it mattered. There was nothing left to be said and no energy for dealing with the next stage. JJ stiffly rose from the table and walked up to Henry's room. The tiny blonde was still completely out. He didn't even stir as his mother slid onto the bed beside him, pulled him into a protective hug and went to sleep.


	27. Beginnings

_At long last . . ._

* * *

**Chapter 27**

**Beginnings**

"We come to beginnings only at the end."

-William Throsby Bridges

JJ had never been more grateful to have a friend like Penelope Garcia in her life. It had been just over a week since her night of revelations to Will. In the days since then his silences had been even harder to endure than their conversations after Henry went to bed. The thought of another weekend smothered by sadness and unspoken accusations was more than she could bear. JJ didn't doubt Garcia had heard the plea in her innocent suggestion that she and Henry come have a sleepover. Penelope's perfect response? 'Why wait til Saturday? Come tonight!'

It was the ideal place of respite for them both. JJ grinned at the sound of Garcia and Henry debating which animated superhero was the best. It sounded as if the gadgets of the Batmobile weren't enough to triumph over Lightning McQueen because he was red; oh, and he talked. She grabbed the pot of brewed coffee, wondering if her friend was ever _not_ wired. The bubbly computer guru had played video games with Henry until his bed time. Then she spent the rest of the evening grilling JJ about the status of her marriage, relationship with Emily and her son's emotional well-being. It had taken hours to convey the relative answers of: ending, better than ever and ask him yourself tomorrow. JJ wasn't released to bed until after midnight and woke at seven to the sound of Garcia and Henry already up watching cartoons. Did her body generate caffeine?

JJ was pulled from such rumination by the sound of her phone vibrating on the counter. She smiled at the caller ID. _Emily_. It had felt scandalously new, talking to each other this whole week without the use of code names or burner phones. They were both more determined than ever to keep each other safe but secrecy was no longer an option.

"Good morning." It was the first use of JJ's voice since waking and she realized her throat was still heavy with sleep; words rich with the innuendo of rumpled sheets and tousled hair.

_"__Mmm,"_ Emily clearly approved of the sensual sound, _"Dreaming of me, were you?"_

"After that last talk we had? What _else_ was I supposed to do?" JJ teased back.

She and Emily had been in contact every day, exchanges long and profound. The conversations that used to be a lifeline had become anchor, ship and harbor to them both. They discussed work, family, friends and futures; in the large context of their overall lives and the small setting of daily events. Both women messaged each other randomly throughout the day as thoughts and questions crossed their minds. Sometimes - like their conversation the previous day - they found themselves confessing; admitting to the longing that consumed them both. The yearning for the effect of a touch or glance that had at first felt embarrassing was now the most intimate way they could share. JJ had never so openly or frankly discussed sex. She'd also never taken so many cold showers.

_"__Do I hear the delighted laughter of my favorite nephew and cyber goddess?"_ Emily decided to keep their chat today chaste.

"You do. I wanted to get out of the house for a while and Penelope was good enough to let us come spend the weekend. Will had volunteered for overtime anyway." JJ frowned. When she asked her husband if he was ok with her and Henry going to Garcia's she found out he'd be working the whole weekend anyway. Apparently they both wanted out of the stifling environment of the house but he hadn't considered Henry. It made her angry even now as she thought about it.

_"__How is it going?"_ Emily could hear a frown; at least in JJ's voice anyway.

JJ sighed, sitting down at Penelope's table with her mug of coffee. She began to outline the hesitant progress she and Will had made. She wasn't sure which of them first brought up divorce but it was the obvious and inevitable outcome so they'd decided to begin. Finances, taxes, possessions, commitments; the trappings of 7 years together were complicated to separate. The only decision that had been swift and easy was Henry. Neither parent was going to give him up, take him away or make him suffer through a fight. That unanimous determination set the framework for everything else. Custody could be the most bitter fight of a divorce but they'd worked out an arrangement that felt right.

"We want to keep it even. Preschool seems the easiest exchange point. Whoever drops him off in the morning; the sitter will pick Henry up and take him to the other's home for the night. Weekends will alternate. This way we both get equal amounts of time with him." JJ explained the agreement she and Will had reached the night before. If she were out of town or Will had to pull overtime the sitter would then stay with Henry until either parent was available. Holidays would be spent all together, no matter how awkward. They'd seen divorces and custody battles that went bad and made Thanksgiving more of a battle ground than the original pilgrims. JJ was determined that wouldn't happen to her son.

_"__And have you talked to Henry about it?"_ Emily gently inquired. So many of their conversations revolved around how to keep the boy safe. How to convince him that no matter what else happened, he wasn't to blame and was loved unconditionally. That talk was going to be infinitely harder and more emotional than anything she'd had to do with Will.

"Not yet. I don't want to tell him I'm moving out until I can tell him where I'll be. For him to believe he's going to be with me every other night he needs to see the house where we'll live and the room where he'll sleep. I just haven't had a chance to go inspect the places I found in ads." JJ sighed. Between work, time with Henry, protracted talks with Will, and even later commiserations with Emily, she simply hadn't had any time for the house hunting end of the process.

_"__You know,"_ Prentiss' words elongated as her thoughts turned, _"I might have a solution for you."_

JJ listened to Emily's offer, surprise and bewilderment eliciting an astonished laugh. The sound caught both Garcia and Henry's attention. The little blonde boy leapt to his feet.

"Is it Emmy? Is it? Is it?" he rushed over, lunging and wrestling with his mother for the phone. JJ had made a point of taking him to preschool this past week partly because it got her out of the house earlier and gave her time with her son. Partly because they also used those extra minutes to call Emily so that Henry could talk to her. Only five days and he was already used to his morning ritual. Garcia, unfamiliar with this habit only knew that the smile on JJ's face was one that Prentiss alone could cause. After a last rushed but affectionate exchange, JJ surrendered the phone.

"Aunt Emmy? Guess what!" Henry jumped up and down like an invisible rope was sweeping beneath his feet.

JJ stood back and watched her son enthuse. Penelope approached and arched an inquisitive eyebrow that needed no words for her question.

"They've been talking every morning. He was so upset when she left without saying goodbye that it nearly broke us both," JJ explained, recalling the pain in Emily's face when Henry had sobbingly demanded to know why she left, "She promised to talk to him every day. It might not be the immediate, constant presence he wanted but it's enough to prove she hasn't abandoned or forgotten him."

"He's more like his mother than he knows." Garcia observed with a smirk, watching the boy bounce as he described – in detail – his previous night's victories at Super Smash Brothers. They both stood in silence for a few minutes, simply observing the performance that was Happy Henry.

"So, are you ready to bring your princess home?" Penelope finally asked; their conversation from the previous night still fresh in mind. JJ's sigh didn't affect her smile. She'd fought with herself over that question every day. Is it time?

"I want to, Pen; so badly. You can't imagine how many times I've almost asked. It wouldn't be fair. Will and I have to sort out all the terms. I have to set up my own home so I can stop sleeping on the office couch. We have to help Henry adjust. We can't even file for divorce until we've been separated for 6 months." She groaned.

Technically it would be 21 weeks from now that they could file for divorce. She'd painstakingly worked it out. If all went well? Another month after that it would be legal. Having taken the first steps of this journey only left her frustrated that the rest would take so long.

"You can't seriously tell me you'll wait that long!" Garcia demanded, slack jawed in horror at the thought of the two women adding such an egregious delay to their already overdue romance.

"I'd die," JJ adamantly shook her head, "I just need a few more things settled. A last handful of loose ends tied up so that when I bring Emily home I can give her everything she deserves."

* * *

The sight of Ellie storming into her office with Fisher and Salinger on her heels filled Emily with worry and a spike of foreboding. The tech's wounded anger radiated from across the room as she confronted their team leader.

"You're leaving?!" Ellie demanded, once again startling Emily with a fully formed sentence free of any impediments. Rage had a way of focusing her tongue. Fisher and Sally took up flanking positions behind the mousy analyst. In her indignant fury she seemed bigger than either of them. Emily sighed.

"I submitted my official resignation two weeks ago," Prentiss confirmed, knowing it was useless to hedge, "I wasn't going to inform the team until the paperwork was finalized and a new leader selected. I'd hoped to make it a smooth transition."

She should have known the neurotically gifted hacker would find out sooner than that. Emily had been so busy wrapping up paperwork on the Djinn case that she'd almost forgotten about the paperwork. She obviously forgot the extent of Ellie's digital curiosity.

"I knew this was going to happen if you worked with the BAU again! Look here, boss, we may not have been at it as long as your American friends but this team can be every bit as good and Interpol needs profiling!" Salinger's face bore the personal sting of rejection.

"Whoa, Sally," Emily rose from her desk, "This isn't about the BAU. This team is every bit as good and is going to continue doing it's very crucial work with or without me."

That reassurance, at least, came easily. She was proud of this team and everything they'd accomplished. The past few weeks since returning from the Djinn case had been a flood of commendations and praise from foreign enforcement agencies, local police and the Interpol directors. Emily had graciously accepted the acclaim on behalf of her unit while deftly rejecting any suggestion that her agents be promoted or transferred 'to utilize their skills.' She knew they worked well together and didn't want to be broken up. Which might account for her pang of guilt over leaving them.

"You turned the BAU down the last time they offered you a job," Fisher recalled, brow knit in thought, "But this is definitely about something in the States. You're going back, aren't you?"

Prentiss sighed. This wasn't how she'd wanted to tell them. Truthfully, she hadn't thought too carefully about what she would say because she knew they were going to be upset regardless of her reasons. They saw her as part of their team and she didn't have the heart to tell them she never was. Not the way they'd wanted. Fisher's insight, as always, was too accurate to evade. Even if it weren't, Salinger's offense and Ellie's injury all demanded prompt, honest answers.

"Yes. I'm going back to the US but not to the BAU. I don't even know if I'll be back in the FBI. This isn't about a job or a team or anything professional. It's personal." She offered the only explanation she knew they would have to respect: truth.

"B-b-bu-," Ellie struggled to object and must've realized that sounding like Porky Pig didn't further her cause. She bit her lip and elbowed Sally to speak up.

"You won't even be working for the Feds? What are you going to do?" Salinger stared in amazement. None of them could imagine a world in which Emily Prentiss didn't carry a badge and gun.

"I don't know yet. Maybe consult. I could teach and train. Or I could just live off my stockpile of winnings from Atlantic City. Honestly, I'd like to go back into the Bureau but going home doesn't depend on an offer." She shrugged. Not knowing what she would do felt truly alien. She'd been goal oriented her entire life, trained for ambitions and achievements. It was a sudden novelty to know her future wasn't defined by the steps of her journey but the person she'd be taking it with.

The thought must've become visible on her face because an astonished comprehension dawned over the team's expressions. When she said it was personal, it truly was. No one who'd ever met Emily Prentiss would think it was possible but she'd found something that mattered more to her than her work.

"Bloody blow me down," Sally gave a soft whistle of amazement, "It must really be important."

That seemed to sum up everything they could say so the three murmured their regrets and turned to leave. At the door Ellie paused, coming back and handing Emily a rolled up paper, avoiding her eyes and swiftly executing an escape. The paper was wrinkled where it had been clenched so angrily in the tiny woman's hand. Smoothing it out revealed Prentiss' resignation form. It had been finalized.

* * *

_Emily could feel every twitch and spasm of muscle in the body beneath hers. Each sigh and smile that parted JJ's lips was caught in a kiss. Sweat slicked skin was sensitive to any breeze and breath, chills a respite from the heat of contact._

_"__Emily . . ." the whisper escaped Jennifer. Over and over Emily heard her name, intensifying from prayer to plea; plea to demand. She could sense the war in JJ's body as she raced towards release but fought to linger. Emily smiled, knowing her lover was trying to drag out the moment as long as possible._

_"__I have you, Jennifer." She murmured, unconsciously slipping into French. JJ still understood. Emily felt her tense, teeth biting into her lower lip to stifle sound but a kiss opened her mouth for –_A loud ringing shattered everything and Emily jerked awake, flailing at the noise.

She managed to grab her phone and sit up in the dark bedroom, cursing under her breath as she tried to slow her heart rate. A glance at the clock told her it was 3 am, the same time as the last few nights. She had to start setting an alarm so she'd be awake before these phone calls came in.

"Hey, gorgeous." She finally murmured a sleepy greeting, grateful that the weariness of the late hour masked any tone from her dream.

"_I woke you again."_ JJ recognized the sound of her voice.

"JJ, it's 3 am. I'm a workaholic but even I pass out around 1," Emily smiled, settling back into her pillows, "I don't care what time it is. It's worth it to hear your voice."

"_I'll remind you of that a year from now when you complain about me keeping you awake because I want to talk_." Jennifer's words danced with teasing amusement.

"Never. I will offer absolute emotional support. Assuming you won't expect me to respond beyond the occasional, inquisitive snore." Prentiss guaranteed.

_"__A good listener always knows when to keep quiet," _JJ acknowledged easily,_ "Are you too unkempt for a visual?"_

"I am always a vision of elegance, thank you very much." Emily shot back, accepting the video call invitation. She'd be lying if she said she hadn't been looking forward to exactly this. Hopefully JJ was using her tablet tonight.

_"__Em,"_ JJ's eyes widened as she processed what she was seeing, _"Holy hell. What are you wearing?"_

"My pajamas?" the brunette carefully maintained an expression of bewildered innocence.

_"__Since when have you ever slept in anything other than sweats and a tank?!" _JJ demanded, a slight hitch in her voice betraying the intensity of her response.

"I've had this for years." Emily shrugged dismissively. It was true; she _had_ owned the sheer, red silk peignoir for years. The fact that it had only been worn once before was hardly relevant. She had a tasteful and deadly store of sleepwear she seldom used. Most of it was frankly just not comfortable to sleep in. It was, however, tremendously effective at times like these. She could see JJ's eyes raking over her, taking in every detail.

_"__I would've remembered that."_ The blonde shook her head, not even pretending to hide her fascination.

"Do you like it?" Emily grinned now, fully satisfied that she had won her game. JJ didn't answer immediately, gathering the will to force her eyes back up to Prentiss' face.

_"__I have never seen anything so beautiful that I wanted to ruin more." _Honest lust coated every word.

"The nightie or me?" a perfectly arched eyebrow reminded JJ that her girlfriend was a naturally expert seductress. How many times had she played the part for a case? Everyone else might chalk it up to good acting ability but JJ had long since learned the truth.

_"__You'll have to wait to find out." _The blonde purred with a wink, playfulness flooding her manner once again. Emily's head tilted in acknowledgement; the score was now tied. Time for a breather; Prentiss decided to switch subjects.

"I got the official word today. At the end of the month I will no longer be working for Interpol." She smiled as JJ's face went from confused surprise to hesitant excitement.

_"__I can't believe they processed it so fast. How does it feel?"_ Jareau carefully reined in her enthusiasm, knowing Emily might have conflicted emotions.

"Disorienting. Liberating. Shocked but exhilarating." Prentiss admitted. She imagined this might be how it would feel to leap from a plane; a rush of adrenaline as the world spins out of control, the ultimate safety of a parachute promising she was free to enjoy the plunge.

_"__It's a big change."_ JJ sympathized.

The look in her eyes was one Emily had come to recognize. It was a blend of expectancy, hope and calculation. She could almost read the words scrolling across JJ's mind: is it time? Emily knew the blonde wanted to ask the question. Her own feeling was that if Jennifer had to ask, the answer was probably 'no,' but Emily wasn't completely certain she'd be able to say as much out loud. Instead, she preempted the query with an answer.

"Every change gets us closer, JJ. I'll be free to walk away from this life but you still have to get situated in yours. There's a lot you'll have to get used to: life without Will, part time with Henry, a new home," the facts felt daunting until Emily recalled her other piece of news, "Speaking of which, Morgan says the place is up to his standards. He'll give you the key at work tomorrow."

_"__I can't wait," _JJ's smile was eager relief,_ "Watch out, Em. Once I'm not sleeping on the office couch I'll break out some weapons of my own."_

The glint in JJ's eyes was clarified by a deliberate lick of her lips. Emily groaned, realizing the woman undoubtedly had an arsenal far wider, more varied and more deadly than her own. She was going to get pneumonia in those damn showers.

* * *

Morgan offered to accompany JJ to her new house after work but the blonde had wanted to be alone. She needed privacy for those first steps through the front door and into a future that was ironically drenched in the past. The row house on Dupont Circle was everything she could've hoped.

She marveled that Emily kept the house this whole time. JJ would've bet a fortune that Prentiss abandoned the deal or sold the place at a loss when she decided to flee to London. Instead, she'd had it carefully closed up, maintained and almost lovingly checked on by Morgan. When JJ questioned her about it, Emily did her best to be honest but couldn't logically justify the choice. She'd simply confessed that selling the house would've felt like admitting she was never coming back. That lingering sentimentality only made sense as hope.

As Jareau explored the main floor (living room, kitchen, dining room) she began to gather clues of explanation. She recognized furniture from Emily's old condo scattered around the half-finished rooms. Here and there were random personal items waiting to be used for décor. Vintage maps of Paris and Rome, Eastern European pottery, a Persian carpet rolled up against one wall; all of it haphazardly abandoned. It was a life interrupted but left on hold.

The second floor revealed a stunning master bedroom and bath. Emily's bed was there, stripped but with fresh sheets waiting in sealed bags in the closet. Beside the empty dresser was a cozy armchair that JJ could already envision either of them relaxing in as they undressed, prepared for bed or simply waited for each other to be ready. Sliding onto the mattress for a moment JJ tried out either side of the bed. The right side put her closer to the bathroom but the left meant control of the windows. It would take a few nights' experimentation to determine which she preferred.

Across the hall was Bedroom 2 according to the floor plan. There were still two more rooms upstairs and with so many to choose from JJ imagined the one closest to the master would be an office. Maximum efficiency for the space, obviously. Plus, Emily wasn't the sort to want her guests _too_ close.

Stepping into the room left JJ momentarily puzzled. Emily's decorating style was more eclectic than she expected. The blue and grey tones were neutral but bright. There was no desk or chair. No furniture besides a dresser and bookshelf. Guest room? JJ went to the shelves, spotting rows of books. She was positive Emily wouldn't have left her collection behind and she hadn't seen a single volume anywhere else in the house. Perusing the titles took Jareau quickly from mystery to conviction to pained appreciation. Dr. Seuss, Maurice Sendak, Hans Christian Andersen, A.A. Milne, Lewis Carrol . . .all the way up to L.F. Baum and C.S. Lewis. Children's books. Starting as young as 2 or 3 and reaching up to pre-teen, Emily had collected a library fit to turn any child into a bibliophile.

Casting her gaze around the room with new understanding, JJ saw other signs. The electrical outlets had been covered. The blue of the walls met the same color on the ceiling and created an endless sky. She fancied she could even make out faint pencil marks where clouds had been intended for later paint. A room for Henry. Two years ago when Emily had been struggling to control her feelings and define their relationship and finally gave into her urge to flee, even then she'd been thinking about Henry.

JJ finished inspecting the remaining rooms before lying down on the master bed yet again to process everything she'd seen. The entire house was a testimony to dreams abandoned; never forgotten and never surrendered. It was the perfect place for them to begin.

Is it time?

Jennifer chewed her lip, a telling sign of anxiety that she only allowed herself in private. She had to pack up all her things and bring them here. She had to get the house ready for Henry to see and understand as a home. She needed to let him adapt to the new life that lay before them all. From long ago, Emily had planned ahead for Henry and made him a consideration. She'd expect to do nothing less now. They all had to watch him during the coming transition, alert to any reaction.

Pulling out her phone JJ tapped in a message Emily was sure to only find in the morning.

_"__I get the left side of the closet and the top drawer in the bathroom."_

* * *

_'__Couch facing tv or fireplace?'_

Emily smiled at the question. The messages had been nonstop for nearly 4 days as JJ moved into her new home. What color scheme for the dining room? Did Emily have a brand preference for kitchen appliances? Which of the two remaining rooms should be an office? Did they both need their own offices? Each query was a reminder that it wasn't going to be JJ's home alone.

'Facing TV, near fireplace; keep options open.' Emily typed her reply. She'd never realized how many decisions had to be made; not until she was being consulted for each one. She was used to walking into each new residence and accepting it, adapting her life to fit the design rather than ever presuming to make it change for her. It felt indulgent to become invested this way.

With her job at Interpol winding down she had decided it was time to begin packing, only to find there was very little she needed to pack. She'd always rented pre-furnished flats. Most of the décor was already in place besides a handful of collectible artworks she had acquired. The only truly personal touch were her books and she'd found they fit in three boxes. Her clothing would be little more. (Shoes were a different matter). As she moved through her apartment of the last two years Prentiss felt the same estrangement she'd experienced with the houses she grew up in. They were familiar; she had memories of each but no emotional attachments. They had never been home and this wasn't either.

_'__Bookshelves: living room, hall or office?'_

Emily grinned, a tugging in her chest the pull of home reaching across the world.

'All of the above,' She tapped back.

She'd eliminated the excess trappings of her life in London. She'd sold the car she never drove, canceled memberships she barely used and subscriptions she never read. Her finances had already transferred to a US institution and she updated all her records. Before long, even if she still lived in London, to the rest of the world Emily Prentiss would be a resident of Dupont Circle, Washington DC. From there it was just a matter of time.

_'__Henry's pictures, stairway or bedroom hall?'_

Emily tried to remember just how many pictures of the boy adorned JJ's walls. There had to be two dozen and if she wasn't bringing them all, she'd have copies.

'Hallway,' she typed back, 'More wall space.'

The thought of pictures brought her eyes guiltily to sweep the flat's walls. She'd never put up any photos. None of the exotic locales she'd explored or friends she'd made or even the token family snapshot adorned her space. She had pictures, of course. They were tucked into albums stored in a box that she never pulled out of the back of her closet. When had her mental compartmentalization managed to take control of her physical world as well?

Emily had profiled people by their homes. She had determined that no one would ever be able to read her heart by clues in her house. She told herself she had to keep the photos hidden to keep people safe. She didn't want anyone ever finding out who was important to her because they could be targeted.

Now, however, she was coming to grips with the more selfish motive visible beneath all that altruism. She hadn't pulled out the box of photos even once in two years. She hadn't revisited the memories or allowed herself to appreciate the past. The simple fact was that she didn't want to look at reminders of what was missing. Each smiling face was a hole in her life and she couldn't see them every day, punctuating their absence.

Profiling herself in earnest, Emily walked through the flat, determined to understand everything it revealed. What would Morgan or Reid or Rossi see? What would Hotch point out? What would JJ say?

Minimal possessions. History and character not just absent but concealed. Total absence of personal investment. The whole apartment was deliberately empty; a life designed to be left. Granted, habit had trained Prentiss to be ready for emergency exits at any time. A sudden threat to herself or JJ would precipitate immediate action. She hadn't only been thinking of danger, however. Preparing herself to leave in an instant, one foot constantly out the door; Emily had been unconsciously anticipating this moment. She hadn't been designing an escape but her return. Under all the rational, disciplined logic and detachment there had been the pulse of hope.

* * *

JJ watched Henry walk cautiously through the rooms of his mother's new home. Exploring with touch as much as sight, his hands learned the smoothness of the counters, the texture of the walls and the intricate carvings of the stair rail. He moved studiously; wide eyed and silent. He'd been silent since breakfast that morning when JJ and Will had sat down to explain to him how his life was going to change.

Henry had been confused but not in the way either parent expected. He understood the idea of spending time with each of them separately but couldn't grasp how that was any different from their pattern thus far. In Henry's simple, honest awareness of the world he'd grown accustomed to the fact that being with one parent always meant the other was away. Naturally, from cartoons and stories he knew that children were supposed to have two parents that lived together and slept in the same room but his experience was contrary. In fact, most of the kids in his preschool class only had one parent so maybe the stories were wrong. He was glad he had both his parents, even if they slept in different rooms.

Now they would sleep in different houses. The biggest worries he'd expressed so far had been about where his toys would be. The bed he slept in hardly mattered so long as he had his stuffed animal menagerie to keep watch. The rush of relief was palpable when he entered a bedroom on the second floor and found an entire zoo assembled on the bed for him. There were also enough toy cars, trucks and construction machinery on the dresser to form a miniature dealership. (JJ was eventually going to have to train Emily not to spoil him so.)

Sitting on the bed, Henry examined each stuffed animal in turn. When he'd finished, he selected for his favorite a plush stuffed Spiderman that had been buried beneath the toys (JJ was also going to have to listen to Emily saying 'I told you so'). He then turned his gaze to sweep the whole room.

"What do you think?" Jennifer finally approached, nerves strung tight enough to hum as she awaited his verdict.

"This is your house now?" the boy continued looking this way and that, scrutinizing everything as though he could see through the walls. Worry and puzzlement scrunched his face.

"Sort of. I'll be living here and on the days when you aren't with daddy, you will too." She clarified. In his short 6 years, Henry had already proven highly attentive to details; she knew better than to give him simple answers because they were easy. He always remembered what he was told and nothing was as frustrating as getting called out by a child over misinformation.

"But whose house _is_ it?" he demanded.

"It's Emily's." JJ had stopped referring to her as an 'aunt.' It felt a touch too deviant. Hopefully Henry would drop the moniker as well.

"Aunt Emmy? Is she here?!" he jumped off the bed, ready to race for the door but his mother intercepted him. She dropped to one knee to keep close contact; she needed to gauge his reaction for what came next.

"No, sweetie, she isn't," JJ shook her head, his crestfallen reaction stabbing her heart but bolstering her on, "Do you want her to be?"

"Yes! I want her to be here and make everything happy!" his bottom lip quivered, the first sign that the emotions of the day were taking their toll.

"Are you unhappy, Henry?" JJ wrapped her arms around her son, soothing away his distress. Small arms circled her neck, sniffling into her hair. The tiny nod she felt against her shoulder was more agonizing than any sob. JJ sucked in a calming breath, knowing that she couldn't start crying because it would only add to his sorrows.

"What can I do, baby?" Jennifer beseeched. There wasn't anything she wouldn't do to take away this pain. She felt Henry turn his head away, looking back out to the room as he considered an answer. He leaned back and regarded his mother. JJ gave him her best reassuring smile but knew her son had too much of herself to be fooled. Small fingers fidgeted in her hair.

"You're sad, Mama," he complained, "Emmy could make you be happy. Then the whole house could be happy too."

"And," JJ steadied her voice, keeping out the emotional cracks, "Then you would be happy too, Henry?"

Her son buried his face back against her neck, tiny puffs of breath making the hair tickle.

"Me too, Mama." He nodded, wrapping himself even tighter around her. JJ released her emotion in a sob of relief, squeezing Henry as close as she dared. The fear and worry of the day bled out of her as she stroked his hair, processing what had just happened.

"My sweet baby." She murmured, rocking them both gently in a comforting embrace.

Finally. She kissed his forehead, a pent up sigh blowing his bangs.

Finally, it was time.

* * *

"Evening, Miss." The familiar smile of the guard at the security station greeted Prentiss as she arrived home.

"Evening, Theo. Hope you brought your umbrella. It's pouring out there." She brushed the rain off her jacket.

"Always, Miss. Only foreigners forget a brolly." Theo pointed out with a touch of teasing reproach.

"Right. Gotta work on that, don't I?" Emily shook her head. Two years and she still left the thing beside her door nearly every day. She headed to the elevator, reminding herself that she wouldn't be dealing with the tedious weather forever. Instead, there could be snow and seasons and sweltering summers and a wardrobe that actually changed throughout the year rather than just adding jackets. There would be lightning storms knocking out electricity and blizzards that had to be shoveled from the driveway and flooded basements and sunburns . . . She was a little surprised to find she was genuinely looking forward to all of it.

"It's not all loss today, a gift came while you were out. Looked pretty special so I made sure the delivery got inside." Theo's smile grew wider. Emily had just stepped into the open lift and she spun.

"Delivery?" She demanded; her tone sharp. Theo's response was swallowed by the closing doors.

Theo had let someone into her apartment. Prentiss felt her body coil into tense knots as the elevator carried her up. Someone with a gift? The last time she'd received a gift it had been a single white lily full of memories and threat. She could still remember the delicate perfume. The minute the doors of the lift opened she had her gun drawn. She tested the handle to her door. It was locked. That was good. Using her key, she opened the door a fraction of an inch and waited beside the threshold. No movement from inside.

A tiny part of her wondered if she wasn't overreacting. It could genuinely just be a gift. It might be a going away present from the team. Maybe JJ had sent something. What if it was a message that she could come home? But then, why would JJ send a gift? She'd just call. Emily had been going insane waiting for that call.

Overreacting or not, cautious was Prentiss' default state. She kicked the door open and swung in, weapon ready. The entry hall and dining area were clear. Where would someone put a package? More importantly, where would they hide? The sound of movement in the living room brought her gun around with fresh focus before she froze.

Jennifer.

The blonde rose slowly from her seat on the couch, pointedly looking at the gun. Emily immediately disarmed, apologies trying to form on her tongue but none worked. She was speechless, transfixed. The vision standing less than ten feet away, more beautiful than any dream or memory, it was perfect and priceless.

Jennifer Jareau.

JJ was here. She was here and coming closer, lips moving as if to find words as well but unable to make any sound. How many times had Emily imagined this moment? Rehearsed all the things she wanted to say when they were finally reunited? Not a single one came to her. Her brain was paralyzed, trying to process JJ's presence; the overwhelming tempest of emotion that came with seeing her in person.

The blonde paused a few feet away, obviously struggling with her own reactions and total inability to do anything other than stare. Giving up on whatever speech she had prepared, JJ closed the space between them and expressed herself directly. The touch of her lips, the hesitant hands desperately seizing Emily, the sigh that was more sensation than sound as they came together; they spoke volumes more detailed and complete than words could ever convey. The two fell into each other, closing the door as they pressed into it. Emily warred with herself, trying to open her eyes and see the beauty in her arms but the rest of her body overruled, too consumed with her all her other senses.

When she couldn't breathe anymore of JJ into herself (because she couldn't breathe at all) Emily began to move away from her mouth. She alternated greedy kisses with tiny gulps of air along the equally breathless woman's cheek and jaw. JJ's fingers threaded in her hair, guiding each caress as her neck tilted to invite exploration.

"Emily," the humming murmur allowed JJ to finally find her voice, "Come home to me."

"God, Jennifer," Emily's moan raised goose bumps along her skin, "I have been dying for those words . . ."

Anything else she might have wanted to say was swallowed by JJ capturing her lips again. Urgent fingers began to roam, seeking clasps and hems; buttons and zippers. Lips and kisses teased with teeth and gasps, intensifying the embrace as hands found flesh and nails grazed skin. The small symphony of sounds shared between their mouths was barely audible over heartbeats echoing in their ears.

The abrupt loss of JJ's lips forced Emily's eyes open and she found twin sapphires sparkling at her.

"Come be with me." JJ repeated her command; more specific, more imploring. Emily swallowed as she saw the other woman bite her lower lip, an expression that would've seemed bashful if it weren't busy being sexy as hell. How did she crowd so much meaning into a single look? Prentiss ghosted her fingers down the blonde's collar, separating the opened shirt until her touch could skim the edge of blue lace. She saw and felt JJ's shuddering breath beneath her hand.

"Is that what you want?" Emily's question danced between teasing and sincere. JJ answered the double inquiry with a violent nod, threading her fingers into the belt loops on the front of Prentiss' pants and tugging her away from the wall. Their kiss resumed, albeit with more distraction and laughter as they clumsily maneuvered down the hallway, stubbornly refusing to release hold of each other.

JJ's back hit the bed and the cold comforter sent a chill across her bare skin. It was nothing compared to her shiver when Emily leaned close. Those dark eyes were consumed in the black of desire but still lit from within by adoration for what she beheld. JJ choked on emotion, raising one hand to caress the beautiful face above her.

"Be mine, Em." She breathed, the plea no more than a whisper. She searched her lover's face, watching for any hint of reluctance or doubt. JJ couldn't find anything beyond a sincerity that radiated warmth, threatening to make them both glow.

"Forever, JJ." Emily's gentle promise was the last thing that needed to be spoken, needed to be heard, that night. Everything else was said without words.

"We live, not as we wish to, but as we can."

-Menander

**The Wishes End**

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_Thanks to everyone who took the time to follow this through to the end. I appreciated all the comments and feedback and hope you've enjoyed the story._


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